The fireside stories of Ireland

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THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

THE FIBESIDE STOEIES

ieeland;

/ KaA

PATEICK KENNEDY,

Author of "Legends of Mount Leinster," "Legendary Fictions of the Irish
Celts," "The Banks of the Boro," and "Evenings in the Duffrey."

DUBLIN :

M'GLASHAN AND GILL; AND PATRICK KENNEDY.

LONDON:

SIMPKIN, MARSHALL <ft CO. ; AND BURNS, OATES & CO. ;

EDINBURGH ; JOHN MENZIES & CO.

1870.

PBINTED BY B. D. WEBB AND SOI
74, MIDDLE ABBBY-STBEET.

TO

EDWAED BARRINGTON, ESQ., J.P.,
jfassaroe, ISraj).

Dear Sir,

I venture to dedicate to you this little volume, without permis-
sion indeed, for I was doubtful of obtaining it if formally asked. I
have no other means at command of expressing my gratitude for
nearly forty years of uninterrupted and active kindness on your part.
I would very willingly bear testimony to your worth as a merchant
and a landed proprietor, and to the amount of public good you have
done by many beneficent acts, and by furnishing employment to so
many hundreds of industrious families during your lifetime ; but, since
the days of John Dryden, the language of dedications, however sin-
cere, is not received with undoubted trust. With best wishes for your
well-being here and hereafter,
I am,

Dear Sir,

Your faithful servant and friend,

PATRICK KENNEDY.

Dublin, November, 1870.

PREFACE

A more correct title for the present collection would be
" The Fireside Stories of the Aryan peoples, as related in
Ireland," for nearly every one of them is told in some shape
at the social gatherings of Hindoos, Persians, Slavonians,
or Teutons. Their skilful framework and the rapid suc-
cession of their incidents may in fact account for their
popularity, which has endured from a period ages before
the commencement of the Christian era. They enjoy a
vitality unknown to fictions invented within historic times.
Country folk of the small-farmer and peasant class re-
sort to their neighbours' houses during the long winter
evenings, urged by the same want which sends the shop-
keepers and mechanics of a city to the reading or tap-room,
or the theatre. They soon exhaust the local topics, but
are unwilling to withdraw to the comparative loneliness of
their own homes ; and if one of the company possesses the
faculties of a good memory and a good utterance, and con-
descends to tell a story, he or she is a social benefactor for
the time. In this way the great body of fireside lore has
been preserved, notwithstanding the small number of good
story-tellers in any neighbourhood. Where the office de-
volves on an incompetent narrator, a change for the worse
ensues. Having gone on correctly for a time, he finds his
memory at fault, and is obliged to fall back on the sequel

Vlll. PREFACE.

of a remembered tale. In this way stories, once popular in
this or that locality, come to be remembered no more.

Taking into account the fewness of story-tellers, and the
odds against a regular succession of good ones in any given
district, the preservation of so many household fictions is
not easily accounted for, especially as they have lost the
poetic form in which they could be easily retained in the
memory. The easy access to cheap books, and the diffusion
of the penny literature of our times, have given a death-blow
to the oral literature of the fireside. Eegret at the passing
away of an institution from which my childhood and boy-
hood derived such pleasure, has set me on to preserve in
print the naive, and in many cases, excellent narratives
which once delighted the unlettered folk of half the world.
I have endeavoured to present them in a form suitable for
the perusal of both sexes and of all ages. Some ludicrous
objurgations of no great harm occur, indeed, in some places;
for the narrative, as given by a Wexford or Kerry man of
the people, would be destitute of local colour without them.

I have only hinted, as it were, at the ordinary pronun-
ciation, giving the words at times as the story-tellers utter-
ed them, and in the correct form at others. A matter-of-
fact reader may, if it gives him any pleasure, suppose beast
to be always pronounced baste, though that faulty spell may
be used only in a few instances. He must also bring him-
self to forgive Irish idioms and incorrect orthography in
the colloquial parts of a story, while the mere narrative
accords tolerably well with rules laid down in Lindley
Murray's grammar. This is an ordinary feature of oral re-
citation. An intelligent though unlettered Bantry or Duf-
frey peasant or peasantess would recite the troubles of the
heroine, the labours and travels of the hero, the evil deeds
of giant, giantess, and stepmother in tolerably correct Ian-

PREFACE. IX.

guage ; but the moment the narrative merged into the col-
loquial, the native idiom and pronunciation took the upper
hand. Had, as an auxiliary in the pluperfect tense, will
not he met here, as it is not patronised by the Irish people.

Writers born in Hants, or Notts, or Herts will kindly
receive a hint or two which may be of use to them, when
they venture on the pronunciation of natives of Ireland.
Neither Paddy nor Winny ever pronounces Peter Pother,
nor priest praste, nor thief thafe, nor read rack. He or
she will certainly sound beat as if it was spelled bate, but
neither will ever make a mistake about a word in which
occurs either of the diphthongs ie, ee. They simply abuse
ea, and indulge in aspirations — faults which are owing to
their retaining the pronunciation of the native Gaelic after
the meanings of most of its words have escaped their me-
mory. The diphthong ea is never pronounced in Irish as
it is heard in meat. It is sounded sometimes as ay in day,
and sometimes as a in calf.

I intended that the present volume should contain some
Ossianic and saintly legends, and short historic romances
from our ancient annals ; but circumstances in which I can-
not expect my readers to take any interest have altered the
design. These pieces only wait a favourable season to make
their appearance. "The Legendary Fictions of the Irish
Celts" (Macmillan, 1866), the present, and the projected
volume will complete " The Fireside and Bardic Stories of
Ireland."

The greater number of the stories appeared in the
Dublin University Magazine, while that periodical was
the property of Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Esq., and while
it was enriched by the publication of his best novels. To
him and the present proprietor I beg to express my grate-
ful sense of their kind permission to issue a separate edition.

X. PREFACE.

I hope the present collection may give pleasure to many
a young and unsophisticated reader, and revive healthy and
pleasant recollections of early life in the hearts and minds
of those advanced in years.

November , 1870.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Preface

Hairy Rouchy

A Legend of Clever Women ...

The Twelve Wild Geese

The Wonderful Cake

The False Bride

The End of the World

The Three Gifts

The Unlucky Messenger

The Maid in the Country Underground

Jack the Cunning Thief

The Greek Princess and the Young Gardener

The Giant and his Royal Servants

The Lazy Beauty and her Aunts

The Gilla na Gruaga Donna

Shan an Omadhawn and his Master

The Princess in the Cat-skins

The Well at the World's End

The Poor Girl that became a Queen

The Grateful Beasts

The Gilla Rua

The Fellow in the Goat-skin ...

The Haughty Princess

Doctor Cure-all

The Wise Men of Gotham

The Good Boy and the Boy that envied him

Choosing the least of Three Evils

The Hermit and the Robber ...

XU. CONTENTS.

Birth and Baptism of St. Mogue

The Greedy Mason ...

The Music of Heaven

How Donn Firinne got his Horse shod

Cliona of Minister ...

A Bullock Changeling

How John Hackett won the French Princess

The Fairy-stricken Servant

The Fairy Rath of Clonnagowan

The Fairies' Pass

The Banshee of the O'Briens ...

Tom Kiernan's Visit to France

The Love Philtre ...

The Pooka of Baltracy

The Enchanted Cat of Bantry

How the Devil's Glen got its Name

The Rock of Cashel ...

The Tree of the Seven Thorns ... „

Legend of the Lover's Leap in the Dargle

The Discovery of Mitchelstown Caves . . .

Lord Clancarty's Ghost

The Treasure-seekers of Maynooth

The Origin of Loch Erne

The Death of the Red Earl ...

Notes and Illustrations

Glossary

THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

INTRODUCTION.

There are few literary subjects more obscure in some re-
spects than that of genuine Household Stories. It is ac-
knowledged on all hands that the oral fictions of all the
peoples, from Hindoostan to the Hebrides, have had a
common origin somewhere in pagan and pre-historic times.
But the early recitals of any people did not consist of
fictions. They were accounts of past transactions, chiefly
the exploits of the ancestors of personages among the
auditory of the reciter, and delivered in a poetic form.
These in time began to be embellished and enlarged by
succeeding bards and minstrels, and, still later, portions of
the poetical form escaped the memory of the reciters, and
the narratives assumed a prose form. It is vain in our
time to seek to recover the original shape of our fireside-
narratives. Through many transmissions a change for the
worse has ensued, and it is beyond the power of our best
scholars to determine what ante-historical occurrence or what
pagan myth is concealed under the garb of a fireside tale.

Beings of superhuman power, both in human and bestial
forms, abound, some good and others evil in their nature,
thus testifying to the worship of inferior divinities and of
animals.

Morality was not an essential feature of the original
narratives, but it is as curious as agreeable to mark the
trifling extent of the evil element throughout. Perhaps
some improvement was effected in the tales as they passed
from the pagan to the christian story tellers. Some indeed
of an unedifying character have remained even to our own
times, but such as these will not be found in our collection.

i

2 THE FIRESIDE, STORIES OF IRELAND.

Step-mothers and step-sisters were selected by the fire-
side historians as the antagonistic characters in their com-
positions. "When these were not sufficient for the quota of
evil necessary, they added a giant, and occasionally his wife.
But in nearly every other instance the mass of shade was
subservient to that of the light and the cheerful middle
tints of the picture. The good and amiable characters were
ever victorious over the selfish and ill-conditioned ones.
Our modern social chroniclers adopt the opposite principle.
They can only afford such a modicum of light as will give
an idea of the depth of their shadows.

Scenes of blood and and cruelty were not at all unfre-
quent in the ancient repertory, but when it is considered
that they were first told to audiences to whom clan-battles,
cattle-lifting forays, and all the troubles incident to tribes
at variance with their neighbours were things of common
occurrence, we may well wonder and be thankful that so
many unobjectionable stories were bequeathed by our tur-
bulent ancestors to us their unimaginative and ease-loving
descendants.

We flatter ourselves that the stories which we here pro-
duce, and which have survived all the changes and chances
met in their passage through the countries and the centu-
ries they must have traversed before they reached us, are
among the best in the Aryan repertory of fiction. Such as
they are, they may be received by our readers as obtained
from bona fide oral sources. No changes have been made
in them by us except where decency required, and they are
given in as near an approach to the garb as well as the
spirit of the originals as could be furnished by one to the
manner born, and to whom, when young, fireside stories
were as necessary as daily food and the healthy air from the
neighbouring hills. None will more rejoice than he, to
hear of some one gathering from a fertile district where the
native tongue is still spoken, a harvest of stories racy of
the Gaelic idiom, thus accomplishing effectually what he
has himself attempted in the comparatively barren field of
a semi-English county.

[ 3 ]

HAIRY EOUCHY.

There was once a widow woman, as often there was, and
she had three daughters. The eldest and the second
eldest were as handsome as the moon and the evening star,
but the youngest was all covered with hair, and her face
was as brown as a berry, and they called her Hairy
Eouchy. She lighted the fire in the morning, cooked the
food, and made the beds, while her sisters would be string-
ing flowers on a hank, or looking at themselves in the
glass, or sitting with their hands across. " No one will
ever come to marry us in this lonesome place," said the
eldest one day ; " so you and I," said she to the second
sister, " may as well go seek our fortune." " That's the
best word you ever spoke," said the other. "Bake our
cake and kill our cock, mother, and away we go." Well,
so she did ; ft And now, girls," said she, " which will you
have, half this with my blessing, or the whole of it with my
curse V " Curse or no curse, mother, the whole of it is
little enough."

Well they set off, and says Hairy Eouchy to her mo-
ther when they got to the end of the lane, "Mother, give
me your blessing, and a quarter of the griddle cake, I must
go after these girls, for I fear ill luck is in their road."
She gave her her blessing and the whole of the cake, and
she went off running, and soon overtook them. " Here's
Hairy Eouchy," says the eldest, " she'll make a show of us.
We'll tie her to this big stone." So they tied her to the
big stone and went their way, but when they were a quar-
ter of a mile further, there she was three perches behind
them. Well, they were vexed enough, and the next clamp
of turf they passed, they made her lie down, and piled every
sod of it over her.

When they were a quarter of a mile further they looked
back again, and there was the girl three perches behind
them, and wern't they mad 1 To make a long story short,
they fastened her in a pound, and they put the tying of the
three smalls on her, and fastened her to a tree. The next
quarter of a mile she was up by their side, and at last they
were tired, and let her walk behind them.

4 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

Well, they walked and they walked till they were tired,
and till the greyness of night came round them, and they
saw a light at a distance. When they came up, what was
it but a giant's house, and great sharp teeth were in the
heads of himself, and his wife, and his three daughters.
Well, they got lodging, and when sleep time was coming
they were put into one bed, and the giant's daughters were
put into another, and the foot of the daughters' bed touched
the head of theirs. Wrell becomes my brave Hairy Eouchy,
— when the giant's daughters were asleep, she took off the
hair necklaces from her own neck and the necks of her sis-
ters, and put them on the giant's daughters' necks, and she
put their gold and silver and diamond necklaces on the
necks of her sisters and herself, and then watched to see
what would happen.

The giant and his wife were sitting by the fire, and says
he, " Won't these girls make a fine meat pie for us to-mor-
row V " Won't they !" says she, and she smacked her lips,
" but I'll have some trouble singeing that hairy one."
" They are all asleep now," says he, and he called in his red-
headed giolla. " Go and put them strangers out of pain,"
says he. " But how'll I know them from your daughters V
says the giolla. " Very easy, they have only hair neck-
laces round their necks."

Well, you may all guess what happened. So the night
faded away, and the morning came, and what did the giant
see at the flight of darkness, when the gate was opened by
the cow-boy, but Hairy Rouchy walking out through it
after her two sisters. Down the stairs he came, five at a
time, and out of the bawn he flew, and mack go brath
(away for ever) with him after the girls. The eldest
screamed out, and the second eldest screamed out, but the
youngest took one under each arm, and if she did'nt lay
leg to ground, you may call me a story-teller. She ran
like the west wind, and the giant ran like the north wind;
the sparks of fire he struck out of the stones hit her on the
back, and the sparks of fire she struck out of the stones
scorched his face. At last they came near the wide and
deep river that divided his land from the land of the King
of Spain, and into that land he daren't pass. Over the wide

HAIRY ROUCHY. 5

deep river went Hairy Bouchy with a high, very active
bound, and after her went the giant. His heels touched
the hank, and back into the water went his head and body.
He dragged himself out on his own side, and sat down on
the bank, and looked across, and this is what he said.
"You're there Hairy Eouchy," says he. "No thanks to
you for it," says she. " You got my three daughters killed."
says he. " It was to save our own lives," says she. " When
will you come to see me again V says he. " When I have
business," says she. " Divel be in your road!" says he.
u It's better pray than curse," says she.

The three girls went on till they came to the King of
Spain's castle, where they were well entertained, and the
King's eldest son and the eldest sister fell in love with one
another, and the second son and the second sister fell in
love with one another, and poor Hairy Eouchy fell in love
with the youngest son, but he did'nt fall in love with her.

Well, the next day, when they were at* breakfast, says
the King to her, " Good was your deed at the giant's house,
and if you only bring me the talking golden quilt that's
covering himself and his wife, my eldest son may marry
your eldest sister." " I'll try," says she ; " worse than lose
I can't."

So that night, when the giant and his wife were fast
asleep, the quilt felt a hand pulling it off the bed. "Who
are you 2" says the quilt. " Mishe" (myself), says the girl,
— and she pulled away. " Waken, master ! " says the quilt ;
" some one is taking me away." " And who's taking you
away]" says he. "It'sMishe that's doing it," says the
quilt. " Then let Mishe stop his tricks, and not be disturb-
ing us. " But I tell you, Mishe is carrying me off." " If
Mishe says another word, I'll get up, and throw him in the
fire." So the poor quilt had nothing to do but hold its
tongue.

" But," says the giant's wife, after a few minutes, "maybe
the divel bewitcht the quilt to walk off with itself." " Faith
and maybe so," says the giant ; "I'll get up and look."
So he searched the room, and the stairs, and the hall, and
the bawn, and the bawn gate was open. " Mile mollachd"
says he ; " Hairy Eouchy was here ;" and to the road he

6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND,

took. But when he was on the hill she was in the hollow,
and when he was in the hollow she was on the hill, and
when he came to the hither side of the river she was on the
thither. "You're there, Hairy Bouchy !" says he. "No

thanks to you," says she " You took away iny

speaking golden quilt," says he. " It was to get my eldest
sister married,7' says she. "When will you come again V
.... " Divel be in your road," says he. u It's better pray
than curse," says she ; and the same night the speaking
golden quilt was covering the King and Queen of Spain.

Well, the wedding was made, but there was little notice
taken of poor Hairy Eouchy, and she spent a good part of
the day talking to a poor travelling woman that she often
relieved at home and that was come by accidence as far as
Spain.

" So the next day, when they were at breakfast again,
says the King, " Hairy Eouchy, if you bring me to-morrow
morning the ckloive solais (sword of light) that hangs at the
giant's bed's head, my second son will marry your second
sister." " I'll make the trial," says she ; " worse than lose
I can't."

Well, the next night the giant's wife was boiling his big
pot of gruel, and Hairy Eouchy was sitting by the dumbly
on the scraws that covered the ridge-pole, and dropping fist-
fuls of salt into the pot. u You put too much salt in this
porridge," says the giant to his wife, when he was supping
it. " I'm sure I did't put in more than four spoonfuls/'
says she. " Well, well, that was the right size ; still it
tastes mortial salty."

When he was in bed he cried out, " Wife, I'll be a piece
of cured bacon before morning if I don't get a drink."
" Oh, then, purshuin to the sup of water in the house," says
she. " Well, call up the giolla out of the settle, and let
him bring a pailful from the well." So the giolla got up
in a bad humour, scratching his head, and went to the door
with the pail in his hand. There was Hairy Eouchy by
the jamb, and maybe she didn't dash fistfuls of sand and
salt into his eyes. " Oh masther, masther," says he, the sky
is as black as your hat, and it's pelting hailstones on me ;
I'll never find the well." " Here you onshuch, take the
sword of light, and it will show you the way."

HAIRY ROUCHY. 7

So he took the chloive solais, and made his way to the
well, and while he was filling the pail he laid the sword on
the ground. That was all the girl wanted. She snatched
it up, waved it round her head, and the light flashed over
hills and hollows. " If you're not into the house like a
shot," says she, " I'll send your head half a mile away."
The poor giolla was only too glad to get off, and she was
soon flying like the wind to the river, and the giant hot
foot after her. When she was in the hollow he was on the
hill

" You're a very good girl, indeed," says the King of
Spain to Hairy Eouchy, the morning after the second mar-
riage ; "you deserve a reward. So bring me the giant's
puckawn with the golden bells round his neck, as soon as
you like, and you must get my youngest son for a husband.
" But maybe he wont have me," says she. " Indeed an' I
will," says the prince ; " so good a sister can't make a bad
wife." " But I'm all hairy and brown," says she. " That's
no sin," says the prince.

Sure enough, the night after, she was hard and fast in
the giant's out -house, stuffing the puckawn' s bells with the
marrow of the elder ; and when she thought the job was
well finished she was leading him out. She had a band on
his mouth, but when my brave puck found he couldn't bawl,
he took to rear and kick like a puck as he was. Out came
the elder marrow from three of the bells, and the sound that
came from them was enough to waken the dead. She drove
him at. his full speed before her, but after came the giant
like a storm. She could escape him if she liked, but she
would not return without puck, and bedad she was soon
pinned and brought back to the giant's big kitcheu. There
was his wife and the giolla, and if he wasn't proud to show
them his prisoner there's not a glove in Wexford.

" Now, ma'am," says he to her, il I have you safe after all
the mischief you done me. If I was in your power what
would you do to me ?" " Oh wouldn't I tie you up to the
ceiling in a sack, you ould tyrant, and go myself and giolla
to the wood, cut big clubs, and break every bone in your
body one after another. Then if there was any life left in
you, we'd make a fire of the green boughs underneath, and

8 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

stifle the little that was left out of you." " The very thing
Til do with you," says he.

So he put her in a sack, tied her up to the beam that
went across the kitchen, and went off with the the giolla to
the wood to cut down the clubs and green branches, leaving
his wife to watch the prisoner. She expected to hear cry-
ing and sobbing from out of the sack, but the girl did
nothing but shout and laugh. " Is it mad you are," says
she, " and death so near you ? " " Death indeed ! Why,
the bottom of the sack is full of diamonds, and pearls, and
guineas, and there is the finest views all round me you ever
see — castles, and lawns, and lakes, and the finest flowers."
" Is it lies you're telling ? " " Oh dickens a lie ! If I'd let
you up, but I won't, you'd see and feel it all."

But the giant's wife over-persuaded her, and when she
was loosened, and got the other into the sack, she tied her
hard and fast, ran to the out-house, threw a rope round the
puckawn's neck, and he and she were soon racing like the
wind towards the river. The giant and the giolla were soon
back, and he wondered where his wife could be. But he
saw the sack still full, and the two began to whack it like
so many blacksmiths. " Oh Lord," says the poor woman,
"it's myself that's here." " And to be sure it's yourself,"
says he ; " here goes again." But she roared out, " Ah sure
I'm your wife ; don't kill me for goodness' sake ! " " Be
the laws," says the giolla, " it's the mistress. Oh, bad luck
to you, Hairy Bouchy ; this is your doing. Bun and catch
her, master, while I take the poor mistress down, and see
what I can do for her." Off went the big fellow like a bow-
arra, but when he came to this side of the river panting and
puffing, there was the girl and his darling puckawn on the
other side, and she ready to burst her sides with the laugh-
ing.

" You're there, my damsel." " ISTo thanks, etc." So the
scolding match went on to the end, and then says he, " If
you were in my place, and I in yours now, what would you
do ? " " I'd stoop down and drink the river dry to get at
you." But she didn't stop to see whether he was fool
enough to take her advice, but led her goat to the palace.
Oh, wasn't there great joy and clapping of hands when the

HAIRY ROUCHY. 9

golden bells were heard a ringing up the avenue, and into
the big bawn ? She didn't mind how any one looked but
the youngest prince ; and though he didn't appear very re-
joiced, there was a kind smile on his face, and she was sa-
tisfied.

Well, the next morning, when they were all setting out
to the church, and the bridegroom was mounted on his
horse, and the bride getting into the coach, she asked him
for leave to take the poor travelling woman in along with
her. " It's a queer request," says he, "but do as you like ;
you must have some reason for it." Well, when all were
dismounting or getting out of their coaches, he went to open
the door for his bride, and the sight almost left his eyes ;
for there sitting foment him was the most beautiful young
woman he ever beheld. She had the same kind innocent
look that belonged to Hairy Eouchy, but she had also the
finest colour in her face, and neck, and hands, and lier hair,
instead of the tangled brake it used to be, was nicely 'platted
and curled, and was the finest dark brown in the world.

Glad enough she was to see the joy and surprise in his
face, and if they were not the happy bride and bridegroom
I never saw one. When they were talking by themselves,
she told him that an enchantment was laid on her when
she was a child, and she was always to remain the fright
she was, till some one would marry her for the sake of her
disposition. The travelling woman was her guardian fairy
in disguise. There were two unhappy marriages and one
happy one in the King of Spain's family, and I'll let every
one here guess which was which.

A LEGEND OF CLEVER WOMEN.

Before Joan was married all her people had a high opinion
of her. When Darby came to woo her, her mother told
him in confidence that she could see the wind, and hear the
flies when they coughed. Well, when they were at dinner
the beer came short, and Joanna went down to the cellar to
draw a gallon-full. She stayed awhile, and then her mother

10 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

went to see what was keeping her. She wasn't coming back,
and the father's and Darby's thirst was getting more trou-
blesome ; so the old man went after the rest. As he forgot
to return, the bridegroom thought fit at last to try what had
become of his new relations, and when he got inside the
cellar, he found the whole of them sobbing and crying.
" What in the world has happened, dear friends 'I " said he.
* Oh nothing," says the mother, " but something terrible
might happen only for the cleverness of my poor Joan. Do
you see that loose stone in the vault just over the spigot ?
When my poor child was filling the gallon, that stone caught
her eye, and she thought what a heartscald it would be when
the little boy, that God will please to send to herself and
yourself, would be filling a vessel, maybe when he'd be ten
years old or so, and that stone tumble down and kill him
dead. So how could she help clapping her hands an' roarin'
an' bawlin' when the thought came into her head1? and I'm
sure her father an' meself would have the hard hearts not
to feel for her." " Well, well," says Darby, " I'll soon put
it out of the stone's power to do mischief." So he got on
a stillion, and pulled it away, and they all dried their eyes
and returned to their dinner.

Well, when they were living by themselves, Darby says
one morning to his wife after breakfast, " You'll have my
dinner ready at half-past twelve to the minute. You know
I have to go to the town after it." " Never fear, Darby,"
says she ; and sure enough she had a big black pudding
hissing in the pan about ten minutes before she expected
him. While she was watching it, the thought came into
her mind that it would be a good thing to be drawing the
beer while the pudding was frying. But while she was
watching the beer falling into the jug, she heard them cry
out, " The dog is running away with the pudding ! " Out
she flew like a racer, and after the dog with her ; but when
she had chased him two fields he was a whole field ahead
of her, and she thought she might as well go back.

Poor Joan ! when she came to the cellar door, the floor
was covered three inches deep with the beer, the barrel was
empty, but the jug was full any way. " We must make
the best of a bad market," says she, " Darby would be

A LEGEND OF CLEVER WOMEN. J I

vexed to see the cellar this way, and I must get out his
drink whatever happens." So she emptied a sack of meal on
the pool, and was delighted to see it wras almost all sucked
up. Then she laid the sack across to the barrel, and hardly-
wet her pumps, and would have had the full jug coming
back only for a kick she happened to give it. Poor Darby had
a poor dinner, but Joan was so heated, and so proud of her
good management, that he hadn't the heart to scold her.
She showed him how nicely all would have happened, and
what a comfortable dinner she might have ready for him,
only for the roguery of the dog when he found the door
open, and how could she spare time to turn the cock when
she heard the shout? Darby, howrever, began to suspect that
she was not so clever as her father and mother said she was.
A week after he had to go to the town, and says he, just
as he was setting out, " Joan, you must mind what I say to
you. Shanna Mo (Jack of the Cows) will be apt to call
while I'm away, for Browny, and Blacky, and Brackedy.
He agreed to pay thirty pounds for them, but he's rather
tricky ; so don't let him get a hoof of one of them without
paying the money on the nail." "I'll be careful," says
Joan. Darby came back in the evening. "Well, Joan
my darling, how did you succeed ] " "Oh nicely. You'll
never say after this that I wasn't clever. I think Shan is
just as tricky as you said he was, but he didn't circumvent
me." " Them cows," says he, " is dear enough, but I'll
take 'em ; what's a man but his wTord?" and he was driving
them out at the bawn gate. " Oh stop ! " says I, " you
didn't give me the thirty pounds." " Didn't I," says he,
" Well, what a memory I have ! and, bedad," says he,
rummaging his pockets, " I left the rowl of notes on the
dresser coining out. Now I'll have the trouble of going for
them. Ah ! I wish my wife was as clever as you, Joan.
I'd be a thousand pounds richer to-day. Happy is the
man that owns you ! Oh, this is what we can do, and save
trouble. These three cows are mine. I'll leave you one
in pledge till I send you the money this evening or to-mor-
row morning." " Well, see my cleverness ! I kept the
smallest because she'd eat the least till he'll send the mo-
ney. Now what do you say to me, Darby 1 " " Indeed,

12 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

I'll say this to you. You are such a fool that I'll never lie
a 3iight by your side, till I find some other woman more
foolish ; " and he turned his back, and to the road with
him.

The first foolish woman he found had no window to her
mud-wall cabin, and the door was turned to the north.
She was running with a sieve in her hands in and out, cry-
ing, " I have it now/' and, " I haven't it now," till Darby
asked her what she was doing. " And ain;t I striving to
carry the sunshine into the cabin, and I can never get it
inside the door ? " " Have you a pick-axe in the way 1 "
" Yes, to be sure." " Well, I'll soon bring it in to you."
He went to the wall next the sun, gave two or three strokes,
and a grey streak was soon coming in, and a splash of light
on the floor. " Oh, fortunate was the wind that drove you
in my road ! what will I be giving you for this good job V
"Ah, my good woman, all you're worth wouldn't be enough ;
I'll take nothing;" and he went on, saying to himself, " She
is not more foolish than Joan."

He was going by a cabin, and such roaring and bawling
as was coming out through the door ! In he ran, and there
was a man sitting on a chair, with a clean linen sack on his
head and his shoulders, and his wife with a beetle, coming
down on his head with the hammers of death, and he roar-
ing like fifty bulls. " What are you doing, you wicked
woman1?" says Darby; " do you want to kill the poor
man 1 "" " Indeed, an' I don't, but I want to make a hole
in this divel of a shirt to let his head and face up through
it!" "Have you a scissors about you'?" "To be sure ;
I'd be a purty housewife if I hadn't." Darby made a cut
in the top of the bag, and the poor bruised head came out.
" Oh, musha, wasn't it good fortune that drove you into
the cabin ! What'll we be giving you for your trouble V
"All you're worth wouldn't be enough; so I'll take nothing;
banacht lath ! I don't think she's worse than Joan. I'll
go on."

The next adventure he met was in a widow- woman's
bawn, where herself and a few neighbours were striving to
lift up a big cow to the eaves of the cabin, and the poor
animal kicking off their hats, and tearing their clothes

A LEGEND OF CLEVER WOMEN. 1 3

with her hoofs. " God bless the men and their work !"
says Darby. " God save you kindly," says they. " What
are yous doing with the poor baste ? " says he. " An'
sure we're striving to get her up on the tatch^ says the
widow, " 'till she makes a meal on all that fine grass that's
growing on itself, and the scraws at the top.;; "Let her
down," says he, "and maybe we'll come on an easier plan.
Give us a reaping-hook, if you have the like." So he got
a ladder, and was soon down again with an armfull of the
grass. " Well to be sure !" says the poor widow, " nothing
bates the wit of man barring the bees. It was a good
wind," &c., &c. u I don't think," says Darby, " she's a
bit worse than Joan. My journey is not over."

Just as night fell, he went into a farm-house and put up
for the night. The owner was a widow- woman that was
after burying her third husband. The first two were such
crooked disciples that she married a third to get the taste
of them off her mouth, as she said. " Where do you come
from, honest man f" says she to Darby, after supper. "I
am from the Gairdheen" (Garden, the name of his farm.)
" Oh, and are you from the Garden in -earnest V " Faith
I am so ; what do you admire about it 1 " " Oh, and may
be you are acquainted with my poor husband, the last I
mean, the others I'm sure never had the grace to get there."
Darby now smelled a rat. " And what sort of a mau was
your last, and what was the name was on him V "An'
wasn't he poor Jack Miskella, the innocentest and little-
good-for-est man that ever drew on a stocking 1 A child
of three years old would buy and sell him any day he ever
got up." "I know the man you mean, and have a message
to you from him. He have no means of earning his bread,
and his clothes is nearly worn out. So he does be begging
at the good Christians' doors, and he bid me tell you, if
you'd send him a comfortable suit of clothes, not forgetting
a pair of double- soled brogues, you'd make a man of him ;
and if he had an ass or a small garran to carry him from
one charitable house to another, he'd be as happy as a king,
it 'ud be such an ease to his poor legs." " Ah, an' them's
the very things he must have, my poor Jack ! I suppose
you'd like to be off early to him. The ass will be ready

14 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

bridled and saddled in the stable, and the full suit will be
laid out here on the kitchen table; and if you think they'd
be of any use, there'll be a few guinea notes in the pockets."
" Never mind the notes ; every family does everything for
itself in that country."

" I think," says Darby to himself next morning, " I've
found a woman rather more foolish than poor Joan ; so
I'll go back to her." He did so, and they led such a life
that whenever a loving couple are seen going together to
Mass or market, every one says, " There goes Darby and
Joan/'

THE TWELVE WILD GEESE.

There was once a King and Queen that lived very hap-
pily together, and they had twelve sons and not a single
daughter. "We are always wishing for what we haven't,
and don't care for what we have, and so it was with the
Queen. One day in winter, when the bawn was covered
with snow, she was looking out of the parlour window,
and saw there a calf that was just killed by the butcher,
and a raven standing near it. " Oh," says she, " if I had
only a daughter with her skin as white as that snow, her
cheeks as red as that blood, and her hair as black as that
raven, I'd give away every one of my twelve sons for her."
The moment she said the word, she got a great fright, and
a shiver went through her, and in an instant after, a
severe-looking old woman stood before her. (i That was a
wicked wish you made," said she, " and to punish you it
will be granted. You will have such a daughter as you
desire, but the very day of her birth you will lose your
other children." She vanished the moment she said the
words.

And that very way it turned out. When she expected
her delivery, she had her children all in a large room of
the palace, with guards all round it, but the very hour her
daughter came into the world, the guards inside and outside
heard a great whirling and whistling, and the twelve princes

THE TWELVE WILD GEESE. 1 5

were seen flying one after another out through the open
window, and away like so many arrows over the woods.
"Well, the king was in great grief for the loss of his sons,
and he would be very enraged with his wife if he only
knew that she wras so much to blame for it.

Everyone called the little princess Snow-white-and-Bose-
red on account of her beautiful complexion. She was the
most ]oving and loveable child that could be seen anywhere.
When she was twelve years old she began to be very sad
and lonely, and to'torment her mother, asking her about
her brothers that she thought wTere dead, for none up to
that time ever told her the exact thing that happened them.
The secret was weighing very heavy on the Queen's con-
science, and as the little girl persevered in her questions,
at last she told her. "Well, mother," said she, "it was on
my account my poor brothers were changed into wild geese,
and are now suffering all sorts of hardship ; before the
world is a day older, I'll be off to seek them, and try to
restore them to their own shapes."

The King and Queen had her wrell watched, but all was
no use. Next night she was getting through the woods
that surrounded the palace, and she went on and on that
night, and till the evening of next day. She had a few
cakes with her, and she got nuts, and mugoreens (fruit of
the sweet briar) and some sweet crabs as she wrent along.
At last she came to a nice wooden house just at sunset.
There was a fine garden round it, full of the handsomest
flowers, and a gate in the hedge. She went in, and saw a
table laid out with twelve plates, and twelve knives and
forks, and twelve spoons, and there wrere cakes, and cold
wild fowl, and fruit along with the plates, and there was
a good fire, and in another long room there were twelve
beds. Well, while she was looking about her she heard the
gate opening, and footsteps along the walk, and in came
twelve young men, and there was great grief and surprise
on all their faces when they laid eyes on her. " Oh, what
misfortune sent you here ] said the eldest. " For the sake
of a girl we were obliged to leave our father's court, and be
in the shape of wild geese all day. That's twelve years ago,
and we took a solemn oath that we would kill the first young

1 6 THE FIRESTDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

girl that came into our hands. It's a pity to put such an
innocent and handsome girl as you are out of the world, but
we must keep our oath." " But," said she, " Tm your only
sister that never knew anything about this till yesterday ;
and I stole away from our father's and mother's palace last
night to rind you out and relieve you if I can." Every one
of them clasped his hands, and looked down on the floor,
and you could hear a pin fall till the eldest cried out, " A
curse light on our oath ! what shall we do V9 " I'll tell you
that," said an old woman that appeared at the instant among
them. " Break your wicked oath which no one should keep.
If you attempted to lay an uncivil finger on her I'd change
you into twelve booliaun buis (stalks of ragweed), but I wish
well to you as well as to her. She is appointed to be your
deliverer in this way. She must spin and knit twelve shirts
for you out of bog down, to be gathered by her own hands
on the moor just outside of the wood. It will take her five
years to do it, and if she once speaks, or laughs, or cries the
whole time, you will have to remain wild geese by day till
you're called out of the world. So take care of your sister;
it is worth your while." The fairy then vanished, and it was
only a strife with the brothers to see who would be first to
kiss and hug their sister.

So for three long years the poor young princess was oc-
cupied pulling bog down, spinning it, and knitting it into
shirts, and at the end of the three years she had eight
made. During all that time, she never spoke a word, nor
laughed, nor cried ; the last was the hardest to refrain from.
One fine day she was sitting in the garden spinning, when in
sprung a fine greyhound and bounded up to her, and laid
his paws on her shoulder, and licked her forehead and her
hair. The next minute a beautiful young prince rode up
to the little garden gate, took off his hat, and asked for
leave to come in. She gave him a little nod, and in he
walked. He made ever so many apologies for intruding,
and asked her ever so many questions, but not a word could
he get out of her. He loved her so much from the first
moment, that he could not leave her till he told her he was
king of a country just bordering on the forest, and he beg-
ged her to come home with him, and be his wife. She

THE TWELVE WILD GEESE. I 7

couldn't help loving him as much, as he did her, and though
she shook her head very often and was very sorry to leave
her brothers, at last she nodded her head, and put her hand
in his, she knew well enough that the good fairy and her
brothers would be able to find her out. Before she went
she brought out a basket holding all her bog-down, and
another holding the eight shirts. The attendants took
charge of these, and the prince placed her before him on
his horse. The only thing that disturbed him while riding
along was the displeasure his stepmother would feel at what
he had done. However he was full master at home, and as
soon as he arrived he sent for the bishop, got his bride
nicely dressed, and the marriage was celebrated, the bride
answering by signs. He knew by her manners she was of
high birth, and no two could be fonder of each other.

The wicked stepmother did all she could to make mis-
chief, saying she was sure she was only a woodman's
daughter ; but nothing could disturb the young king's opi-
nion ©f his wife. In good time the young queen was de-
livered of a beautiful boy, and the king was so glad he
hardly knew what to do for joy. All the grandeur of the
christening and the happiness of the parents tormented
the bad woman more than I can tell you, and she deter-
mined to put a stop to all their comfort. She got a sleep-
ing posset given to the young mother, and while she was
thinking and thinking how she could best make away with
the child, she saw a wicked-looking wolf in the garden,
looking up at her, and licking his chops. She lost no time,
but snatched the child from the arms of the sleeping wo-
man, and pitched it out. The beast caught it in his mouth,
and was over the garden fence in a minute. The wicked
woman then pricked her own fingers, and dabbled the blood
round the mouth of the sleeping mother.

Well, the young king was just then coming into the
big bawn from hunting, and as soon as he entered the
house, she beckoned to him, shed a few crocodile tears, be-
gan to cry and wring her hands, and hurried him along the
passage to the bedchamber.

Oh, wasn't the poor king frightened w7hen he saw the
queen's mouth bloody, and missed his child 1 It would

2

1 8 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

take two hours to tell you the devilment of the old queen,
the confusion, and f right, and grief of young king and queen,
the bad opinion he began to feel of his wife, and the struggle
she had to keep down her bitter sorrow, and not give way
to it by speaking or lamenting. The young king would
not allow any one to be called, and ordered his step -mother
to give out that the child fell from the mother's arms at
the window, and that a wild beast ran off with it. The
wicked woman pretended to do so, but she told under-
hand to everybody she spoke tp,, what the king and herself
saw in the bedchamber.

The young queen was the most unhappy woman in the
three kingdoms for a long time, between sorrow for her
child, and her husband's bad opinion ; still she neither spoke
nor cried, and she gathered bog-down and went on with
the shirts. Often the twelve wild geese would be seen
lighting on the trees in the park or on the smooth sod, and
looking in at her windows. So she worked on to get the
shirts finished, but another "year was at an end, and she had
the twelfth shirt finished except one arm, when she was
obliged to take to her bed, and a beautiful girl was born.

Now the king was on his guard, and he would not let
the mother and child be left alone for a minute ; but the
wicked woman bribed some of the attendants, set others
asleep, gave the sleepy posset to the queen, and had a per-
son watching to snatch the child away, and kill it. But
what should she see but the same wolf in the garden look-
ing up/ and licking his chops again ^ Out went the child,
and away with it flew the wolf, and she smeared the sleep-
ing mother's mouth and face with blood, and then roared,
and bawled, and cried out to the king and to everybody she
met, and the room was rilled, and every one was sure the
young queen had just devoured her own babe.

The poor mother thought now her life would leave her.
She was in such a state she could neither think nor pray,
but she sat like a stone, and worked away at the arm of the
twelfth shirt.

The king was for taking her to the house in the wood
where he found her, but the stepmother, and the lords of
the court, and the judges would not hear of it, and she was

THE TWELVE WILD GEESE. 1 9

condemned to be burned in the big bawn at three o'clock
the same day. When the hour drew near, the king went
to the farthest part of his palace, and there was no more
unhappy man in his kingdom at that hour.

When the executioners came and led her off, she took
the pile of shirts in her arms. There were still a few
stitches wanted, and while they were tying her to the stake,
she still worked on. At the last stitch she seemed overcome
and dropped a tear on her work, but the moment after she
sprang up, and shouted out^"I am innocent ; call my hus-
band ! " The executioners stayed their hands, except one
wicked-disposed creature who set fire to the faggot next
him, and while all were struck in amaze, there was a rush-
ing of wings, and in a moment the twelve wild geese were
standing round the pile. Before you could count twelve,
she flung a shirt over every bird, and there in the twink-
ling of an eye were twelve of the finest young men that
could be collected out of a thousand. While some were
untying their sister, the eldest, taking a strong stake in his
hand, struck the busy executioner such a blow that he
never needed another.

While they were comforting the young queen, and the
king was hurrying to the spot, a fine -looking woman ap-
peared among them holding the babe on one arm and the
little prince by the hand. There was nothing but crying
for joy, and laughing for joy, and hugging and kissing, and
when any one had time to thank the good fairy, who in
the shape of a wolf, carried the child away, she was not t< i
be found. Never was such happiness enjoyed in any pa-
lace that ever was built, and if the wicked queen and her
helpers were not torn by wild horses they richly deserved it.

THE WONDERFUL CAKE.

A mouse, a rat, and a little red hen once lived to-
gether in the same cabin, and one day the little red hen
said, " Let us bake a cake and have a feast." " Let us,"
says the mouse ; and " let us," says the rat. " Who'll go

2*

2 0 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

get the wheat ground ?" says the hen. " I wont," says the
mouse ; " I won't," says the rat ; " I'll go myself," says the
little red hen. " Who'll make the cake f " I won't," says
the mouse ; " I won't," says the rat ; " I will myself," says

the little red hen " Who'll eat the cake 1 " « I

will," says the mouse ; 'II will," says the rat; "Dickens a bit
you shall," says the little red hen. Well, while the hen
was putting over her hand to it, magh go brath with it out
of the door, and after it with the three housekeepers.

When it was running away, it went by a barn full of
thrashers, and they asked it wfere it was running. " Oh,"
says it, " I'm running away from the mouse, the rat, and
the little red hen, and from you too if I can." So they
piked away after it with their flails, and it run and it run
till it came to a ditch full of ditchers, and they asked it

where it was running " Oh, I'm running away

from the mouse, the rat, and the little red hen, and from a
barn full of thrashers, and from you too if I can." Well
they all ran after it along with the rest till it came to a well
full of washers, and they asked the same question, and it
returned the same answer, and after it they went. At last
it came to a ford where it met with a fox, who asked where
it was running. " Oh, I'm running away from the mouse,
the rat, and the little red hen, from a barn full of thrash-
ers, a ditch full of ditchers, a well full of washers, a crumply-
horned cow, a saddled-backed sow, and from you too if I
can." " But you can't cross the ford," says the fox. "And
can't you carry me over 2" says the cake. " What'll you
give me V says the fox. " A kiss at Christmas, and an egg
at Easter," says the cake. " Yery well," says the fox — "up
with you."

So he sat on his currabingo with his nose in the air, and
the cake got up by his tail till it sat on his crupper. "Now
over with you," says the cake. " You're not high enough."
Then it scrambled up on his shoulder. " Up higher still,"
says he, " you wouldn't be safe there." " Am I right now X*
says the cake, when it was on his head. " Not quite," says
he; " you'll be safer on the ridge pole of my nose."
" Well," says the cake, " I think I can go no further."
" Oh, yes," says he, and he shot it up in the air, caught it
in his mouth, and sent it down the red lane.

[ *» ]

THE FALSE BRIDE.

There was once a king and a queen that loved each other
very much, and they had a beautiful and kindly disposi-
tioned daughter. But the queen was taken ill, and when
she was dying she called her daughter alone to her bed-
side, and fastened a woven ring of hair, and silk, and gold
thread on her left arm, just under her shoulder, and said,
" Now, my dear daughter, you must be very careful not
to let any womankind get possession of that ring. It
was given to me by a good fairy when you were an infant,
and she said that as long as you wore it, no one could do
you any real harm. But if once it was taken from you,
she that took it would command you in every way, and if
she was as ugly as sin, you should take her appearance, and
it was in her power to take yours, the moment the change
was made."

When the queen was dead, one lady of the court, who
had rather an ugly looking daughter, became very loving
to the young princess, and she spoke of the king's loss so
feelingly, and pitied him so much, that the princess thought
it would be the finest thing in the world if her father would
make her his second wife. So she was evermore speaking
of the lady's goodness of heart, and nice manners, and she
plagued her father so, that to get rid of the bother he
married the cunning lady at last. The first dinner they all
took together, the new queen gave wine to the princess,
and water to her own girl ; the next, she gave them both
wine, and the third, the poor princess had to put up with
water. By degrees she turned her father very much against
her, telling him all manner of lies and stories, and when
there were great parties she would not be allowed to join
in them, because the young nobles and princes would dance
oftener with her, and entertain her with discourse much
oftener than her step- sister, for this one had a bad temper
as well as an ugly face.

So the poor young lady spent a great deal of her time in
her chamber, or when the weather was fine, out in the park,
sometimes walking, and sometimes sitting under the trees
and doing needle-work. One day she was hemming a

22 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

handkerchief, with her little dog on one side and her work
basket on the other, and a voice that she thought belonged
to one of the gentlemen of the court said, " Who are you
hemming the handkerchief for, fair lady? " " For the King
of Norway's son," said she by way of joke. "Then I am a
happy man/' said the voice, " for I am that person." She
looked up, and all the blood in her veins rushed into her
face, for she saw she was speaking with a noble -looking,
and well-formed, and handsome young man with rich
clothes on him. I won't tire jou with all the confusion at
first, and the charming discourse that followed; but, to
make a long story short, she ran home, and the prince soon
followed her, and paid his respects to her father, and asked
for her in marriage. Well, he didn't get a refusal, but the
step -mother and step-sister were as mad as you please at
the preference that was shown her.

The young prince soon returned home to prepare for the
wedding, and in a week's time the princess was sent after
him, and a company of gentlemen and attendants went
with her, to do her honour and protect her from accidents,
and her step-sister went also, out of respect as she said.
But she got some lessons in private from her mother.

One day they stopped at a nobleman's house, and as it
was hot weather the princess, and the step-sister, and the
step-sister's maid went down to a summer-house that was
on the edge of the lake to bathe. When the three wTere in
the water, the step-sister took hold of the princess by the
arm, and said with a wicked tone, and her teeth almost
closed, " Loose that platted ring from your arm, and give
it to me quietly, or we will drown you here without pity."
vShe begged and prayed for mercy, but all to no use. She
forgot that they could do her no harm while she had the
ring, and so, to save her young life, she unclasped it, and
fastened it on the other's arm. The moment it was on
the appearances of both were changed, and the princess got
the ugly look of her step-sister, who was now as beautiful
as she had been a minute before. " Now," says the wicked
girl, " swear that you will never tell to any human being,
young or old, what has happened, or drowned you shall be."
So, to save her life, she took the oath.

THE FALSE BRIDE. 2J

They went on again after their rest ; the step-sister as
beautiful as the lily and rose, and the princess as ordinary
in feature as if she were a tinker's daughter, but their dis-
positions remained the same as before. No one saw the dif-
ference but the little dog, and now he would not come near
the false princess, whatever patting or coaxing she could
try. The young prince of Norway was right glad to wel-
come his bride to her new home, but after a little he was
surprised at the tone of her voice, and the coarse kind of
talk she used, and her bad temper.

The wedding was celebrated, and I'll leave you to feel for
the poor princess that day and night and for a week after.
The bride got little comfort in her new life. She had great
grandeur, but she saw that her husband didn't care for her;
he found such a difference in her discourse from what he
heard from her at her father's palace, and there was nothing
good-natured, or witty, or pleasant in all that came out of
her lips. Every one liked the poor ugly sister, she was so
cheerful and kind with gentle and simple. Even the prince
would chat as long with her as his wife would let him, and
the old king grew as fond of her as if she was his daughter.

This did not at all please the bride, and so she told the
princess to make ready for her return. She was to set out
in three days, and every one in the court was sorry, but so
it should be. Well, the next day, a young boy that was
employed in the kitchen watched the old king when he
was taking a walk in the grove, and says he, " I ask pardon,
but I could not help telling your majesty what I heard the
young queen's sister saying to her little dog last night when
she thought every one was asleep. She went out in the
garden, and I thought it so queer that I crept after in the
shade, till she went into the summer-house, and sobbed and
cried as if her heart was going to break. ' My poor faith-
ful little dog/ said she, ' little does my father or the young
prince that should be my husband, know what my wicked
step- sister did to me ; how she and her maid went about
drowning me till I was forced to take the platted ring off
my own arm and put it on hers, and how our appearances
were changed from that moment ; and that she who lies by
his side now is not his own love at all, but the wicked

24 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

daughter of a wicked mother. I am obliged by a solemn
oath not to tell this treachery to any human being, but if
I did not speak about it my heart would break, and so I
tell it to you, my dear little dog/ And then she lamented
her fate so bitterly that I couldn't help crying. For fear
she should find out that she was heard, I did not stir till
I saw her going up the walk and into the castle."

" Don't say a word of this to any one at your peril," said
the old king to the boy, " and you shall be well rewarded
for your discovery." He went in and requested the bride
and bridegroom and the princess to come into his own pri-
vate room, and there, while all were wondering what he had
to say, he asked the bride if she wore on her left arm under
the shoulder a platted ring of hair, and silk, and gold-
thread. She reddened up, but did not deny it, as the bride-
groom saw it more than once. " Will you please to let all
the present company look at it 1 " said he. Well, she was
very unwilling, but thought better to comply. " Oblige
me now, ma'am," said he, "by opening the clasp." " I
don't know how," said she. " That's true, at any rate/'
said the king. " Perhaps, madam," said he to the princess,
"you know the plan." " Oh, you forsworn creature!" said
the bride, "aren't you afraid of breaking your solemn oath?"
" She broke no oath," said the king. " She told her dismal
story to her little dog in the summer-house last night, and
he that overheard it told it to me. Dear daughter," said
he to her, " open the clasp." " She shall not," cried the
wicked bride, " while I have life or strength ; " and she
stamped like a fury. Three of the guards were called in,
and very hard they found it to keep her quiet while the
princess loosened the clasp. There she was the next mo-
ment as ugly as sin, and her own beautiful colour and fea-
tures came back to the true princess. I need not tell you
how the wicked girl was sent back to her mother, bound
hand and foot, and how the king banished them both from
his kingdom, and threatened to have them torn by wild
horses if ever they dared to return. Well, another marriage
was soon celebrated, and if there wasn't joy and happiness
at it, there's no such thing in the world. And if yourselves
and myself were living within ten miles of the palace, I'm
sure we'd get an invitation.

[ *5 1

THE END OF THE WOKLD.

A Hen was standing under a hazel-tree one day, and a nut
fell on her tail. Away she ran to the Cock, and says she,
u Cocky Locky, the end of the world is come." " How do
you know, Henny Penny 1 " says he. " Oh, a nut fell on
my tail just now." " If that he so, we have nothing for it
but to run away." So they ran till they met the Duck.
" Oh, Ducky Lucky, the end of the world is come." "How
do you know, Cocky Locky ? " " Oh, a nut fell just now
on Henny Penny's tail." " If that be so, we must run for
it." When they were pegging off, they met the Goose.
" Oh, Goosey Poosey, the end of the world is come." " How
do you know, Ducky Lucky | " "A nut fell on Henny
Penny's tail just now." " If that be the case, we are done for."
They met the Fox. " Oh, Foxy Coxy, the world is come
to an end." " How do you know that, Goosey Poosey 1 "
" Oh, a nut fell on Henny Penny's tail." "Then let us be
off." So they got into the wood, and says Foxy Coxy,
" Let me count if all are safe. I, Foxy Coxy, one ; you,
Goosey Poosey, two ; Ducky Lucky, three ; Cocky Locky,
four ; Henny Penny, five. Number five, I'll put you in a
safe place where the end of the world won't hurt you." So
he took Henny Penny behind a bush and put her out of
pain. " Now," says he, coming back, " let us count if all
the rest are safe. I, Foxy Coxy, one ; you, Goosey Poosey,
two ; &c. &c. Number four, I'll put you in a place where
you'll be safe when the end of the world comes." He took
him behind another bush, &c. &c. &c. " Now let me see
if all the rest are here. I, Foxy Coxy, one; &c. &c. &c;"
and so on till he put the fear of the world's end out of every
one of them.

THE THREE GIFTS.

There was once a widow woman and she had only one
son, an innocent slob of a boy, and one summer when the
food was scarce and dear, Jack said he'd not be a burthen

26 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

to his mother any longer, but go and look for service.
Well, the poor mother gave him her best blessing, and he
began to make the road short. He walked all day till
the heel of the evening, and then he took up at a farmer's
house where he got his supper and a bed. All the talk of
the family, the whole evening, was about outwitting people
in making bargains, and how every one chuckled while he
was telling how he passed off an old useless horse for a
young one, or got a good price for a regular fowler of a pig.
And the women were as bad as the men, boasting of how
they cheated customers by passing off layers of bad butter
under the good, and selling musty eggs for fresh, and I
don't know all. The very old couple laughed at the chil-
dren telling how they won pins and buttons by cheatery at
pitch and toss and such games. Jack wondered at the sort
of people he got among, but he was in no danger of falling
in love with their ways.

Well, as roguish as they appeared, they were not without
good nature. They gave him a good supper of potatoes,
milk, and butter, and the only harm I wish King George
is, that he may never have worse. They gave him a quarter
of a barley griddle-cake next day, and he continued his
quest. Late in the evening he came out on a common that
had in the middle of it a rock or a great pile of stones
overgrown with furze bushes, and, when he came up, there
was a dwelling-house, and a cow-house, and a goat's-house,
and a pig-stye all scooped out of the rock, and the cows
were going into the byre, and the goats into their house,
but the pigs were grunting and bawling before the door.

There was a comely old woman leaning over the half-
door, scolding the pigs for being so impatient. Jack bade
her the time of the evening, and she gave him back his
good manners, and said if he wished to rest for the night
he was welcome. There was nothing Jack liked better.
So he got a good supper, and an offer to give him good
wages if he stopped to mind her live stock, and the little
plot of potatoes and corn that was sown.

So he agreed to try a quarter, and never was a quarter
spent pleasanter. He looked after the puckawn and his
twelve goats, the ram and sheep, and the black cattle,

THE THREE GIFTS. 2/

reaped the little plot of corn, and weeded the potato drills.
His mistress and himself had never a cross word. She
wasn't a fidget, and Jack was not lazy, and he'd often catch
himself saying, " Our cows and our goats," as if he was
partly a master, and she never thought the worse of him
for it. At last the quarter came to an end, and his mistress
bade him go home and see his mother, and come back to
her if he liked. " Here's the wages I'll give you," said she,
laying a hen on the table. " Do not ask it to do anything
till you reach home ; then throw some oats on the table,
and say, ' Hen, hen, lay your eggs.' "

Jack knew the woman's good heart, and took away the
hen as contented as if he got ten pounds. He got lodging
at the same house as before, and they asked him ever so
many questions, chiefly about the wages. He was such a
slob of a fellow that the smallest child in the house was
able to turn him inside out, so he acknowledged that the
only wages he got for the quarter was the hen. " Oh, but
you're the divel's own gommula of a Jack," says the man of
the house, "for taking such wages. Put the carkeen on
the table, and let us see what she can do." " Give us a
handful of oats," says Jack. The oats was spilled out, and
Jack said the words he was told, and the hen began to pick
and to lay golden eggs as fast as you could reckon them, and
such looks as every one gave, and such opening of eyes and
clucking of tongues, and ohs ! and ahs ! no one ever heard in
one place. When she laid about a score of eggs, Jack
thought it was enough for one time, and he took all and
bade the banatigh hold out her apron.

Every one paid Jack a great deal of respect the rest of
the night. He asked leave to go to the barn when he felt
himself sleepy, but dickens a foot they'd let him. He was
put to sleep in a feather bed in one of the rooms below the
parlour, and the hen was provided with a nice nest along-
side of him. After a good breakfast next day they filled
his pocket with a split cake and plenty of butter inside
of it. When the hugging and kissing between himself
and his mother was over, says she, " Jack, asthore, did you
bring anything home with you V " Faith, an' I did,
mother," says he. " There's a hen that will make our

28 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND^

fortune/' " Hen inagh t musha what great value is the
finest hen in Ireland ! " " You'll see, mother, after you
give her some oats on the table." The oats were spilled,
and Jack said the same words as before, " Hen, hen, lay
your eggs/' but she went on picking, and not an iotum
of an egg did she lay. " Well, Jack, my poor fellow, you
were a gaum before you went to travel and you are a gaum
after it. " Mother/' says Jack, " I was deceived, that's all ;
but Fll try my fortune again." He took up at the farmer's
house, and told how the hen wouldn't lay a single golden
egg for him at his mother's. " What hen 1 " said they.
" The one that laid the twenty golden eggs on that table."
" Oh, my poor fellow, it's a dream you had the same night.
The hen you had with you never laid an egg of any kind
while she was here," and Jack didn't know what to think.
He returned to his old mistress, and told her what hap-
pened him. " Couldn't you take my advice, Jack, and not
try what your hen would do till you got home 1 The hen
now at your mother's is not the one you took from here."
" Lord ! " says he, " would the dacent people that lodged
and fed me do such a mean act 1 " and he began to think.
"No help for misfortunes, Jack," says his mistress. " Go
to your work, and we'll see what luck's in store for you in
another quarter's time."

So he worked away like a May boy, and the cows, and
goats, and sheep seemed all glad to see him again, for he
was always a good head to them. But the old lady didn't
keep him more than a week till she popped him home.
"Here, Jack," says she, "is a table-cloth, but you are not
to open it till you get home to your mother. Then spread
it on the table, and say ' Table-cloth, do your duty/ and if
you don't be surprised, I'm not speaking to you." Jack
set out, and got lodging again at the same house, but he
took good care not to show his treasure ; he kept it folded
round his body. Well, they began to joke on him about
his dream, and to ask him what new prize he got. He held
out a long time, but one of the children peeped under his
coat, and saw the cloth. Well, they gave him no ease, but
undervalued the article, and ridiculed him till at last out of
bravery he spread it on the table, and cried out, " Table-

THE THREE GIFTS. 29

cloth, do your duty." In a moment it was covered with
dishes, and plates, and jugs, and tumblers, and knives and
forks, all of pure gold, and the nicest meat and loaves were
on the dishes, and sweet wine and ale in the jugs and tum-
blers. Every one was amazed, and Jack was not slow in
asking them to fall to. They didn't need much pressing,
and when all were satisfied, Jack insisted that the mistress
of the house should put up all the gold vessels in her cup-
board.

He was put to sleep in the same feather bed, and his
cloth was put under his pillow by the mistress, and he got
his bread and butter for the road, and his mother laughed
at him when the table-cloth would do no more for him than
the hen ; and the farmer's family laughed worse when he
came back ; they called it his second dream ; and so he re-
turned very low-spirited to his old mistress that lived un-
der the bushy rocks.

" Jack," says she, " I see nothing can be done for you
nor for any one that can't say no, nor stand a jest. All my
gifts are spent but one, and that's no great thing. Such as
it is you may take it. Whenever you say ' Stick, do your
duty,' you will very likely see something you didn't expect.
You are always welcome to come back to me ; but I'll give
you no more wonderful presents. I'll give you just five
pounds a quarter, as long as you stay with me; but first go
back this one time more.

Jack got lodging in the same house, but he took no care
to hide his stick, and I don't think any of them set any
value on it more than himself. So they spoke of one thing
and another, but though they pretended to feel no curiosity
about what the stick could do, the discourse always came
back to it. " Well," says Jack at last, " as I showed you
the virtue of the other gifts, or dreamed I showed them
(maybe I'm only dreaming now), I wont be a churl about
this. Stick, do your duty." Oh, the moment he said the
words, the stick flew from the head and shoulders of one
to the head and shoulders of another, whacking, and crack-
ing, and banging, and everyone roaring out, " Murdher,
murdher !" and such a piece of confusion was never seen
before under one roof. No one could get more than a rub

30 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

or two at his bruises when his turn came round again.
And it was one chorus of roaring and bawling. " Oh, Jack
honey," says the woman of the house, " stop this mischief
of a stick, and you must have your hen again/' " But you
know, ma'am, it was only a dream." "Dream or no dream,
here she is." " Stick, stick, will that do ?" said Jack, but
it only went on throuncing harder than ever. " Well, Jack,
here is the cloth also, and now stop it for goodness' sake."
Stop it did like shot, at Jack's bidding, and came back to
Jack's hand, but it was long before the groans and moans
were at an end.

Jack would not sleep under the roof of such people. He
rested in the barn the rest of the night on a good pile of
straw, and next evening he was at home. You can hardly
imagine the mother's surprise when she saw the hen lay
golden eggs, and the cloth covered with gold vessels. Every
one that was in need was the better of Jack's good luck ;
but in the beginning he did as much harm as service with
his generosity to lazy and wicked creatures, but he learned
wisdom all in good time. He and his mother drove in a
carriage to the common where the good fairy lived ; the
common was there, and so was the rock with all the bushes,
but neither house, nor mistress, nor the sheep, nor the cows,
nor the puckawn, nor his troop of goats.

> ♦ ♦ ♦ <

THE UNLUCKY MESSENGER.

There jsvas once a farmer's wife that had a servant boy,
and this poor boy's memory wasn't very good, nor indeed
was himself bright in any way. She sent him one day to
the butcher's in the next town for some hearts and livers
and lights, and gave him a shilling. " But/' said she, " I'm
afraid you won't remember what I'm sending for." " Oh
faith I will, ma'am," says he, " I'll be saying 'em the whole
way, hearts and livers and lights ; — hearts and livers and
lights." "Well, do so, Jack, and maybe you'll succeed this
time."

Jack went on repeating his message like a May-boy, till

THE UNLUCKY MESSENGER. 3 I

he met a man that was returning home from a sea- voyage.
His face was as yellow as a kite's claw, and just as he was
passing Jack he gave him a slap in the jaw that almost
knocked him down. " Wbat's that forT says poor Jack.
H What was I doing to you V " You mischievous brat, I
can hardly keep my heart liver and lights from flying out
of my mouth IJm so sea- sick, and the very mention of them
is almost after turning me inside out/' " Well, and what
am I to he saying V9 " Why, if you can't keep your tougue
easy, say ' May they never come up !'" "Very well," says
Jack. " Hearts — no, may they never come up, may they
never come up !"

He was passing by a field where men were planting pota-
toes, and the first of them that heard him, jumped over the
ditch and began to kick poor Jack. " Oh ! what's that for?
Sure I'm doin' no harm to yez." " Do you call that bad
prayer, no harm, you thief 1 instead of saying, like a good
neighbour, l Two hundred this year ; three hundred next
year.'" " Oh, very well," says Jack, " I'll say that to please
you/' and he went on saying, " Two hundred this year ;
three hundred next year."

Well, a funeral was entering the churchyard just as Jack
went by repeating his last lesson. " Oh, you nasty Turk !"
says an old woman, " is them the prayers you're saying for
the poor corpse's sowl, wishing for so many deaths ?" " I'm
not wishing for any one's death, God forbid!" "Then
don't be repatin' them hathenish words." " And what
words will I be repatin' if you please, ma'am f " Any
good prayer at all, suppose, 'Peace be with him !' " "Any-
thing to please you, ma'am. — Peace be with him ; peace
be with him !"

He was passing by a farmer's bawn just as a fox was
skelpin' away with a chicken in his mouth, and the whole
family after him. While they kept on shouting, he kept
on saying, "Peace be with him; peace be with him !" — "Oh,

the d pace you !" says the man of the house ; " what a

nice thing to wish for the red thief I" " An' what ought
I say 1" " If you must say anything, let it be "Hang the
brute !" ' " Oh, very well, one thing's as good as another.
Hang the brute 3 hang the brute !"

32 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

A poor woman was getting along, and striving to keep
her drunken husband from falling. When she heard what
Jack was saying, she laid the man down easy by the side
of the road, new on Jack, knocked off his hat, boxed his
ears for him, and pulled his hair. "Musha, ma'am, what's
that for V1 says Jack. " It's for what you said to my poor
husband," says the womany " an' he the best man in the
five townlands, only when he's overtaken." " An' I wish
you hadn't overtaken me ; and what ought I to say, to
please you V7 " Oh, any good wish at all. ' May you
never be separated,' will do." "Well, well! May you
never be separated ; may you never be separated."

The road was going by the edge of a bog, when what
should he see but two men down in a deep hole, and one
striving to drag the other out. When the strongest heard
what he was saying, he cried out, " Stop there till I go up
to you." And as sure as he did get up, he gave poor Jack
a good beating. " Musha, musha !" says the poor fellow,
" I'm doing what everybody is bidding me, and everybody
is throuncin' me, and what's it all for V1 " It's for your bad
wishes, it is." " And what do you wish me to pray for ]"
" Say, ' One out ; may the other soon be out.' " " Oh, very
well."

He was saying as hard as he could, " One out ; may the
other be soon out !" when he met a man blind of one eye.
Well, he was so mad he fell on Jack, and all he got before
wTas only a Hay-bite to what he suffered from this customer.
" Ah, what are you baten' me this way for'?" says the poor
fellow. " For your impedence, and your bad prayers," says
he. " And what am I to be saying then ?" says Jack. "I'd
advise you to be saying nothing at all." " Yery well : no-
thing at all ; nothing at all," went on Jack repeating till
he came to the butcher's. " Well, my man, what do you
want V' " Nothing at all ; nothing at all." " Well, take
it, and be off with yourself." u Oh, but I want something
for the mistress." " What is it V7 " Dickens a bit of me
knows. I said so many raimshogues along the road, it's
got out of my head. Nothing at all ! One out ; may the
other soon be out ! Hang the brute ! Two hundred this
year, &c.; &c. Oh ! bego7iies, I'll never be able to recollect

THE UNLUCKY MESSENGER. $$

it.'7 "What did your mistress give youT "A shillin'."
" Give me the shilling and I'll give you what you want."
He did so. " Open your fist." He opened it, and the
butcher put his mouth down into it, and I needn't say what
he left behind him. He shut the fingers down on it again.
" Now don't open your fist for your life till you get home
to your mistress. She'll find what she wants inside of your
fingers and thumb. Don't let a hare catch you till you're
inside the house." Jack did as he was bid, and it's meself
that's glad I wasn't standing in his shoes that day, when
the mistress was lambasting him.

THE MAID IN THE COUNTRY UNDER GROUND.

There was once a man that was left a widower with a
good and handsome daughter; but bethought fit to marry
a widow, a very bad woman, who had a daughter as wicked
as herself. They did all they could, by telling lies on her,
to persuade her father to turn her away, but he would not.
So one day that she was sent to the draw-well her step-
mother came behind her, and threw her head foremost into
it. • She gave herself up for dead ; but wasn't she surprised,
after her breath was stopped for a while, to find herself
lying in a green meadow, with a bright sun and blue sky
over her % Well, she walked on till she came to a hedge,
that was so old it was not able to bear up a bird. "I'm
old and worn, fair maid," said the hedge ; " step lightly
over me." " That I will do with pleasure, poor hedge,"
said she. So she stepped so gently and lightly over, that
not a twig wras stirred. " I'll do you a good turn another
time," said the hedge.

She went on a while till she came to where an oven
stood with a hot fire under it, and all at once the loaves
spoke. " Take us out, take us out, fair maiden. We're
baking for seven years, and now we'll be all burned if you
don't release us." So she took the shovel, opened the door,
and laid them nicely side by side on the grass. "Now take
one of us with you," said the loaves, " and good luck be in

3

34 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

your road." She went on, and found a poor woman sitting
on a stone, and crying with the hunger. She gave her the
greater part of her loaf, and went on till she met a flight
of sparrows sitting on a block, and they all chattered out,
" Some crumbs, fair maid; some crumbs, fair maid, or we'll
all be dead with the hunger. It's seven years since we got
a good meal/' So she crumbled the rest of the bread, and
they all cried, "Some day, fair maid, this good will be
surely repaid."

She next passed by an apple tree, and the branches were
bent down to the ground with the fruit. " Shake me,
shake me, fair maid ; it's seven years since I was shaken
before." So she gently shook the tree and the boughs,
and gathered all into a nice heap round the trunk. " Take
some in your hand and eat them," said the tree ; I'll re-
member this deed some day." The next she met was a
ram, with his wool all trailing on the ground behind him.
" Shear me, fair maid," said he, " for I wasn't shorn for
seven long years." So she laid his head on her knee,
and clipped him so nice, that he cried out when she
was walking away, " Fair maid, IT1 do you a good turn for
this some day." The next she met was a cow, with her
poor elder (udder) so full that it was trailing on the ground.
" Milk me, fair maid," said she ; " I wasn't milked frhese
seven long years." So she did, and the cow licked her, and
mooed after her, " Fair maid, I'll do you a good turn for
this some day."

Well, the day was spent, and she got lodging at a lonely
house, where there was no one but a woman with hair on
her chin, and very long teeth, and her daughter that had
the same sort of teeth, but no beard as yet. They gave her
some mouldy bread and some small beer for supper, and
next day when she was going off, they said there was no
one else living in that underground country, and so she
might as well live with themselves. " I'll give you food
and clothes," said the old woman, "and your choice of
three caskets when you are leaving me, and one of them •
contains more gold and silver and precious stones than the
king of England has in his court."

The first task she gave her was to go milk the cows,

THE MAID IN THE COUNTRY UNDER GROUND. 35

but when she went into the byre where they stood, they
lued, and they kicked, and they horned, so that she was
afraid to come near them. But a flight of sparrows came
in, and lighted on their heads, and took hold of their ears,
and they stood as quiet as lambs till they were milked.
Then they all chirruped, " This is what we do for reward-
ing of you, fair maiden, fair maiden, for giving us crumbs,
for giving us crumbs." Then they all new off, and very
sour looks she got from the two women inside for getting
away with her life from the cows. " It was not from your
own breast you sucked your knowledge/' said the young
one.

The next morning said the old witch, " Take this short
black hank of thread and this long white hank to the
stream, and bring the black one back to me white, and
the white one black, or you'll sup sorrow." The poor girl
took the hanks with a heavy heart and went to the spring,
and washed and cried till she was weary, and then sat down
on a stone, and wrung her hands. Who should come up
at the moment but the poor woman she fed the day she
cleared the oven, and she did no more than swale the
white hank with the stream, and the black hank against
the stream, and the colours were changed in a moment.
"This is the good turn I promised you, fair maiden," said
she, and she vanished.

As vexed as the witches were beiipre, they were twice as
much vexed now, and their faces were fiery and vinegary
enough to frighten a horse from his fodder. " Wait till
to-morrow ! " said they to themselves.

When the breakfast of mouldy bread and small beer was
over, said the old hag, " Take that sieve to the stream, and
bring it back full of water; there mustn't be a drop want-
ing." So she went and tried to fill it, and it was no sooner
full than it was empty, and she began to cry. Oh, where
are my sparrows and my fairy now ]" said she. " Hero
we are," said the birds.

" Stuff with moss,
Plaster with clay,
And carry it full
Of water away."

3*

S6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

She did so, and took home the sieve full to the brim.
" Oh, ho ;" said the angry old witch, " you're too clever for
us, I see. Go up to that loft, and take your choice of three
caskets you'll find on the table.'; She went up, and there
were three caskets — one of gold, one of silver, and one of
lead. She was in doubt which to select, till she heard the
sparrows twittering on the roof at the skylight, " Pass by
the gold, pass by the silver, but take up the lead, fair
maiden." So she did, but as she was quitting the house
the old witch was so vexed at her choice, that she snapped
up a burning log, and flung it after her.

She ran away very swiftly and as swift came the witches
after her, till she came up to where the cow was standing.
" Come under me," says the cow ; "Til hide you behind
my elder, and I'll put a charm on their eyes. "Did you
see a young girl pass this way V said they. "Yes," said
the cow, "she turned into that wood on the left." Off they
ran that way, and the cow licked the maiden, and off she
ran. Well, when she came near the ram, she heard the
clatter of their feet behind her. " Get under that heap of
wool," says he, " and they won't see you." " Earn, ram,
did you see a young girl run by V "Yes, I did. She ran
into that wood on the right." Off with them again, and
the maiden thanked the ram, and ran on. Just as she was
near the apple tree, she heard the clatter of their feet again.
" Get under the heapyrf apples," said the tree, and so she
did. "Apple tree, apple tree, did you see a young maid
run this Way.?" "Yes, I did. She is hiding in my branches."
Up they both climbed, and off ran the maid. They thought
to get down and pursue her, but the branches twisted round
them and held them fast, and it wasn't till the maid was
near the hedge that they were again on land. Just as she
was at the hedge, she heard the clatter of their feet, but the
fence opened a gap for her, and she was soon in the green
meadow where she first opened her eyes in the underground
world. When the hags attempted to cross the hedge it
pricked them with thorns and brambles, and just as they
were over, it tumbled on them, and it took them half a day
to get clear again.

A heaviness came over the maid as she sat down to rest

THE MAID IN THE COUNTRY UNDER GROUND. 3 J

on a green ridge, and when she woke she found herself
sitting hy the well in the upper world. Her father was
glad to see her again, but the wicked women of the family
drove her to an out-house to take her meals and sleep.
Well, she swept it out, and brushed the cobwebs off the
walls, and then she sat down at a little table they gave her,
and opened her box to see what was inside. All the silk,
and gold, and silver, and jewels that were in it were enough
to dazzle anyone's eyes, and she began to hang the walls
with the silk curtains, and cover the floor with the fine
carpets, that grew in size according as they were wanted,
and then she was like a queen in her bower, with as much
gold, and silver, and jewels in her casket as she chose.

Oh, weren't the step-mother and her daughter in a bad
way when they came by chance into the room ! They
asked how she got all the fine things, and when she told
them, the daughter popped herself head foremost into the
well, and there she met all the same adventures as her
sister, but she was cross and impudent with every one, and
she had no one to help her milking the wicked cows, nor
dyeing the hanks, nor filling the sieve, and at last she chose
the gold casket, and when the hags sent her away after half
starving her, the ram and the cow pucked her with their
horns, and the apple tree had like to kill her with the load
of fruit it let fall on her, and the hedge wounded her with
its thorny boughs, and when she found herself by the well
in the upper world she was more dead than alive. It was
worse when she came home, and the gold casket was
opened, for out there swarmed toads, and frogs, and snakes,
that crept under the beds, and filled every corner of the
house ; and day after day new ones were coming out, and
making a purgatory on earth for herself and her mother.
The father was glad enough to be let live with his daughter,
and there was so much talk about it in the country that
the young king came to see the maiden. To make a long
story short, they were married, and if they didn't live happy
ever after, it surely wasn't the fault of the young queen.

>♦ ♦ +-<

38 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND,

JACK THE CUNNING THIEF.

There was a poor farmer who had three sons, and on the
same day the three boys went to seek their fortune. The
eldest two were sensible, industrious young men; the young-
est never did much at home that was any use. He loved
to be setting snares for rabbits, and tracing hares in the
snow, and inventing all sorts of funny tricks to annoy people
at first and then set them laughing.

The three parted at a cross-roads, and Jack took the
lonesomest. The day turned out rainy, and he was wet and
weary, you may depend, at nightfall, when he came to a
lonesome house a little off the road. " What do you want V
says a blear-eyed old woman, that was sitting at the fire.
" My supper and a bed to be sure," said he. " You can't
get it," said she. "What's to hinder me V said he. "The
owners of the house is," said she, " six honest men that
does be out mostly till three or four o'clock in the morning,
and if they find you here they'll skin you alive at the very
least." " Well, I think," said Jack, " that their very most
couldn't be much worse. Come, give me something out of
the cupboard, for here I'll stay. Skinning is not much
worse than catching your death of cold in a ditch or under
a tree such a night as this."

Begonies she got afraid, and gave him a good supper, and
when he was going to bed he said if she let any of the six
honest men disturb him when they came home she'd sup
sorrow for it. When he woke in the morning, there were
six ugly-looking spalpeens standing round his bed. He
leaned on his elbow, and looked at them with great con-
tempt. " Who are you," said the chief, " and what's your
business *? " " My name," says he, " is An Ceann Ghoduidlie
(pr. Cann Godhy, Master Thief), and my business just now
is to find apprentices and workmen. If I find yous any good,
maybe I'll give you a few lessons." Bedad they were a
little cowed, and says the head man, " Well, get up, and
after breakfast, we'll see who is to be the master, and who
the journeyman."

They were just done breakfast, when what should they
see but a farmer driving a fine large goat to market. " Will

JACK THE CUNNING THIEF. 39

any of you," says Jack, " undertake to steal that goat from
the owner before he gets out of the wood, and that without
the smallest violence'?" "I couldn't doit," says one, and
t I couldn't do it," says another. " I'm your master," says
Jack, " and I'll do it.;;

He slipped out, went through the trees to where there
was a bend in the road, and laid down his right brogue in
the very middle of it. Then he ran on to another bend,
and laid down his left brogue and went and hid himself.
When the farmer sees the first brogue, he says to himself,
" That would be worth something if it had the fellow, but
it is worth nothing by itself." He goes on till he comes to
the second brogue. "What a fool I was," says he, "not
to pick up the other! I'll go back for it." So he tied the
goat to a sapling in the hedge, and returned for the brogue.
But Jack, who was behind a tree, had it already on his
foot, and when the man was beyond the bend he picked
up the other and loosened the goat, and led him off through
the wood.

Ochone! the poor man couldn't find the first brogue,
and when he came back he couldn't find the second, nor
neither his goat. " Mile (pr. millia) mollacht/" says he,
"what will I do after promising Shevaun (Siobhan, Johanna)
to buy her a shawl. I must only go and drive another
beast to the market unknownst. I'd never hear the last
of it if Joan found out what a fool I made of myself."

The thieves were in great admiration at Jack, and wanted
him to tell them how he done the farmer, but he wouldn't
tell them. By and by, they see the poor man driving a
fine fat wether the same way. "Who'll steal that wether,"
says Jack, " before it's out of the wood, and no roughness
used?" "I couldn't" says one, and " I couldn't," says
another. "I'll try," says Jack. "Give me a good rope."

The poor farmer was jogging along and thinking of his
misfortune, when he sees a man hanging from the bough,
of a tree. "Lord save us !" says he, "the corpse wasn't
there an hour ago." He went on about half a quarter of a
mile, and there was another corpse again hanging over the
road. "God between us and harm," said he, "am I in my
right senses ] " There was another turn about the same

40 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

distance, and just beyond it the third corpse was hanging.
" Oh, murdher ! " said he ; 6t I'm beside myself. What
would bring three hung men so near one another 1 I
must be mad. I'll go back and see if the others are there
still."

He tied the wether to a sapling, and back he went. But
when he was round the bend, down came the corpse, and
loosened the wether, and drove it home through the wood
to the robbers' house. You all may think how the poor
farmer felt when he could hnd no one dead or alive goiug
or coming, nor his wether, nor the rope that fastened him.
" Oh, misfortunate day ! " cried he, " what'll Shevaun say
to me now ? my morning gone, and the goat and wether
lost ! I must sell something to make the price of the shawl.
Well, the fat bullock is in the nearest field. She won't
see me taking it."

Weil, if the robbers were not surprised when Jack came
into the bawn with the wether. " If you do another trick
like this/' said the captain, " I'll resign the command to
you.;'

They soon saw the farmer going by again, driving a fat
bullock this time. "Who'll bring that fat bullock here,"
says Jack, " and use no violence V " I could'nt," says one
and " I couldn't/' says another. " I'll try," says Jack, and
into the wood with him. The farmer was about the spot
where he saw the first brogue, when he heard the bleating
of a goat off at his right in the wood.

He cocked his ears, and the next thing he heard was the
maaing of a sheep. " Blood alive !" says he, " maybe these
are my own that I lost." There was more bleating and
more maaing. " There they are as sure as a gun," says he,
and he tied his bullock to a sapling that grew in the hedge,
and into the wood with him. When he got near the place
where the cries came from, he heard them a little before him
and on he followed them. At last, when he was about half
a mile from the spot where he tied the beast, the cries
stopped altogether. After searching and searching till he
was tired, he returned for his bullock ; but there wasn't the
ghost of a bullock there nor any where else that he searched.

This time, when the thieves saw Jack and his prize com-

JACK THE CUNNING THIEF. 4 1

ing into the bawn they couldn't help shouting out, " Jack
must be our chief/' So there was nothing but feasting and
drinking hand to fist the rest of the day. Before they went
to bed, they showed Jack the cave where their money was
hid, and all their disguises in another cave, and swore obe-
dience to him.

One morning when they were at breakfast, about a week
after, said they to Jack, " Will you mind the house for us
to-day while we are at the fair of Mochurry ? We hadn't
a spree for ever so long : you must get your turn whenever
you like." ."Never say' t twice," says Jack, and off they
went. After they were gone says Jack to the wicked house-
keeper, " Do these fellows ever make you a present V "Ah
catch them at it ! indeed an' they don't, purshuin to 'em.,;
"Well, come along with me, and I'll make you a rich wo-
man." He took her to the treasure cave; and while she
was in raptures, gazing at the heaps of gold and silver, Jack
filled his pockets as full as they could hold, put more into
a little bag, and walked out, locking the door on the old
hag, and leaving the key in the lock. He then put on a
rich suit of clothes, took the goat, and the wether, and the
bullock, and drove them before him to the farmer's house.

Joan and her husband were at the door; and when they
saw the animals, they clapped their hands and laughed for
joy. "Do you know who owns them bastes, neighbours?"
"Maybe we don't! sure they're ours." "I found them
straying in the wood. Is that bag with ten guineas in it
that's hung round the goat's neck yours f } " Faith it isn't."
il Well, you may as well keep it for a Godsend ; I don't want
it. Banacht Hath:3 "Heavens be in your road, good
gentleman ! "

Jack travelled on till he came to his father's house in the
dusk of the evening. He went in. " God save all here ! "
" God save you kindly, sir ! " " Could I have a night's lodg-
ing here ! " " Oh, sir, our place isn't fit for the likes of a gen-
tleman such as you." "Oh, masha, don't yous know your own
son 1 " Well they opened their eyes, and it was only a strife
to see who'd have him in their arms first. " But, Jack
asthore, where did you get the fine clothes 1 " Oh, you
may as well ask me where I got all that money 1 " said he,

42 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

emptying his pockets on the table. Well, they got in a
great fright, but when he told them his adventures, they
were easier in mind, and all went to bed in great content.

" Father," says Jack, next morning, " Go over to the land-
lord, and tell him I wish to be married to his daughter."
" Faith, I'm afraid he'd only set the dogs at me. If he
asks me how you made your money, what 11 1 say 1 " " Tell
him I am a master thief, and that there is no one equal to
me in the three kingdoms ; that I am worth a thousand
pounds, and all taken from the biggest rogues unhanged.
Speak to him when the young lady is by." " It's a droll
message you're sending me on : I'm afraid it won't end
wrell." The old man came back in two hours. "Well,
what news 1 " " Droll news enough. The lady didn't
seem a bit unwilling : I suppose it's not the first time you
spoke to her, and the squire laughed, and said for you to
steal the goose off o' the spit in his kitchen next Sunday,
and he'd see about it." " 0 ! that won't be hard, any way."

Next Sunday, after the people came from early mass, the
squire and all his people were in the kitchen and the goose
turning before the fire. The kitchen door opened, and a
miserable old beggarman with a big wallet on his back put
in his head. " Would the mistress have anything for me
when dinner is over, your honour 1 " " To be sure. We
have no room here for you just now ; sit in the porch for a
while." " God bless your honour's family and yourself ! "
Soon some one that was sitting near the window cried out,
"Oh, sir, there's a big hare scampering like the divel round
the bawn. Will we run out and pin him 1 " " Pin a hare
indeed ! much chance you'd have ; sit where you are." That
hare made his escape into the garden, but Jack that was in
the beggar's clothes soon let another out of the bag. " Oh,
master, there he is still pegging round. He can't make his
escape : let us have a chase. The hail door is locked on the
inside and Mr. Jack can't get in." " Stay quiet, I tell you."
In a few minutes he shouted out again that the hare was
there still, but it was the third that Jack was just after
giving its liberty. Well, by the laws, they couldn't be kept
in any longer. Out pegged every mother's son of 'em, and
the squire after them. " Will I turn the spit, your honour,

JACK THE CUNNING THIEF. 43

while they're catching the hareyeen?" says the "beggar.
" Do, and don't let anyone in for your life." " Faith an'
I won't, you may depend on it." The third hare got away
after the others, and when they all came hack from the
hunt, there was neither heggar nor goose in the kitchen.
" Purshuin' to you, Jack," says the landlord, "you've come
over me this time."

Well, while they were thinking of making out another
dinner, a messenger came from Jack's father to heg that
the squire, and the mistress, and the young lady would step
across the fields, and take share of what God sent. There
was no dirty mean pride ahout the family, and they walked
over, and got a dinner with roast turkey, and roast beef,
and their own roast goose, and the squire had like to burst
his waistcoat laughing at the trick, and Jack's good clothes
and good manners did not take away any liking the young
lady had for him already.

While they were taking their punch at the old oak table
in the nice clean little parlour with the sanded floor, says
the squire, " You can't be sure of my daughter, Jack, unless
you steal away my six horses. from under the six men that
will be watching them to-morrow night in the stable."
" I'd do more than that," says Jack, " for a pleasant look
from the young lady ;" and the young lady's cheeks turned
as red as fire.

Monday night the six horses were in their stalls, and a
man on every horse, and a good glass of whiskey under
every man's waistcoat, and the door was left wide open for
Jack. They were merry enough for a long time, and joked
and sung, and were pitying the poor fellow, but the small
hours crept on, and the whiskey lost its power, and they
began to shiver and wish it was morning. A miserable old
colliach, with half a dozen bags round her, and a beard half
an inch long on her chin, came to the door. " Ah then,
tendher-heartecl christians," says she, " would you let me
in, and allow me a wisp of straw in the corner ; the life will
be froze out of me if you don't give me shelter." Well,
they didn't see any harm in that, and she made herself as
snug as she could, and they soon saw her pull out a big
black bottle, and take a sup. She coughed and smacked

44 TnE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

her lips, and seemed a little more comfortable, and the men
couldn't take their eyes off her. " Gorsoons,'; says she,
"I'd offer you a drop of this, only you might think it too
free-making." " Oh, hang all impedent pride," says one,
" we'll take it, and thankee." So she gave them the bottle,
and they passed it round, and the last man had the man-
ners to leave half a glass in the bottom for the old woman.
They all thanked her, and said it was the best drop ever
passed their tongues. " In throth, agras," said she, u it's
myself that's glad to show how I value your kindness in
giving me shelter ; I'm not without another buideal, and
yous may pass it round while myself finishes what the da-
sent man left me."

Well, what they drank out of the other bottle only gave
them a relish for more, and by the time the last man got to
the bottom, the first man was dead asleep in the saddle, for
the second bottle had a sleepy posset mixed with the whis-
key. The beggar-woman lifted each man down, and laid
him in the manger, or under the manger, snug and sausty,
drew a stocking over every horse's hoof, and led them away
without any noise to one of Jack's father's out-houses. The
first thing the squire saw next morning was Jack riding up
the avenue, and five horses stepping after the one he rode.
" Confound you, Jack ! " says he, " and confound the
num sculls that let you outwit them ? " He went out to
the stable, and didn't the poor fellows look very lewd o'
themselves, when they could be woke up in earnest !

" After all," says the squire, when they were sitting at
breakfast, " it was no great thing to outwit such ninny-
hammers. I'll be riding out on the common from one to
three to-day, and if you can outwit me of the beast I'll be
riding, I'll say you deserve to be my son-in-law." " I'd do
more than that," says Jack, " for the honour, if there was
no love at all in the matter," and the young lady held up
her saucer before her face.

Well, the squire kept riding about and riding about till
he was tired, and no sign of Jack. He was thinking of
going home at last, when what should he see but one of his
servants running from the house as if he was mad. " Oh
masther, masther," says he, "as far as he could be heard, " fly

JACK THE CUNNING THIEF. 45

home if you wish to see the poor mistress alive ! I m run-
ning for the surgeon. She fell down two nights of stairs,
and her neck, or her hip, or both her arms are broke, and
she's speechless, and it's a mercy if you find the breath in
her. Fly as fast as the baste will carry you." "But had-
n't you better take the horse 1 it's a mile and a half to the
surgeon's." " Oh, anything you like, master. Oh, Vuya,
Vuya ! misthress alanna, that I should ever see the day !
and your purty body disfigured as it is !" "Here, stop your
noise, and be off like wildfire ! Oh, my darling, my darling,
isn't this a trial !"

He tore home like a fury, and wondered to see no stir
outside, and when he flew into the hall, and from that to
the parlour, his wife and daughter that were sewing at the
table screeched out at the rush he made, and the wild look
that was on his face. " Oh, my darling ! " said he, when he
could speak, " how's this 1 are you hurt 1 didn't you fall
down the stairs 1 What happened at all ] tell me ! " " Why,
nothing at all happened, thank God, since you rode out :
where did you leave the horse 1 " Well, no one could de-
scribe the state he was in for about quarter of an hour, be-
tween joy for his wife and anger with Jack, and sharoose for
being tricked. He saw the beast soon coming up the ave-
nue, and a little gorsoon in the saddle with his feet in the
stirrup leathers. The servant didn't make his appearance
for a week, but what did he care with, Jack's ten golden
guineas in his pocket.

Jack didn't show his nose till next morning, and it was
a queer reception he met. "That was all foul play you
gave," says the squire. "I'll never forgive you for the
shock you gave me. But then I am so happy ever since,
that I think I'll give you only one trial more. If you will
take away the sheet from under my wife and myself to-night,
the marriage may take place to-morrow." " We'll try," says
Jack, " but if you keep my bride from me any longer, I'll
steal her away if she was minded by fiery dragons."

When the squire and his wife were in bed, and the moon
shining in through the window, he saw a head rising over
the sill to have a peep, and then bobbing down again.
" That's Jack," says the squire : " I'll astonish him a bit,"

4-6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

says the squire, pointing a gun at the lower pane. " Oh
Lord, my dear ! " says the wife, " sure you wouldn't shoot
the brave fellow ! " " Indeed, an' I wouldn't for a kingdom ;
there's nothing but powder in it." Up went the head, bang
went the gun, down dropped the body, and a great souse
was heard on the gravel walk. " Oh Lord," says the lady,
" poor Jack is killed or disabled for life." " I hope not,"
says the squire, and down the stairs he ran. He never
minded to shut the door, but opened the gate and ran into
the garden. His wife heard his voice at the room door, be-
fore he could be under the window and back, as she thought.
" Wife, wife !" says he from the door, "the sheet, the sheet !
He is not killed, I hope, but he is bleeding like a pig. I
must wipe it away as well as I can, and get some one to
carry him in with me." She pulled it off the bed and threw
it to him. Down he ran like lightning, and he had hardly
time to be in the garden, when he was back, and this time
he came in in his shirt as he went out.

" High hanging to you, Jack," says he, " for an arrant
rogue ! " " Arrant rogue 1 " says she, " Isn't the poor fel-
low all cut and bruised? " "I didn't much care if he was.
What do you think was bobbing up and down at the win-
dow, and sossed down so heavy on the walk *? a man's
clothes stuffed with straw and a couple of stones." " And
what did you want with the sheet just now, to wipe his
blood if he was only a man of straw 1 " " Sheet, woman !
I wanted' no sheet." "Well \ whether you wanted it or
not, I threw it to you, and you standing outside o' the door."
" Oh, Jack, Jack, you terrible tinker !" says the squire,
u there's no use in striving with you. We must do with-
out the sheet for one night. We'll have the marriage to-
morrow to get ourselves out of trouble."

So married they were, and Jack turned out a real good
husband. And the squire and his lady were never tired of
praising their son-in-law, "Jack the Cunning Thief."

[ 47 ]

THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER.

There was once a king, but I didn't hear what country
he was over, and he had one very beautiful daughter. Well
he was getting old and sickly, and the doctors found out
that the finest medicine in the world for him was the apples
of a tree that grew in'the orchard just under his window.
So you may be sure he had the tree well minded, and used
to get the apples counted from the time they were the size
of small marvels. One harvest, just as they were begin-
ning to turn ripe, the king was awoke one night by the
flapping of wings outside in the orchard ; and when he look-
ed out, what did he see but a bird among the branches of
his tree. Its feathers were so bright they made a light all
round them, and the minute (moment) it saw the king in
his night- cap and night-shirt it picked off an apple, and
flew away. " Oh, tattheration to that thief of a gardener!'7
says he, " this is a nice way he's watching my precious
fruit."

He didn't sleep a wink the rest of the night ; and as soon
as anyone was stirring in the palace, he sent for the
gardener, and abused him for his neglect. " Please your
majesty ! " says he " not another apple you shall lose. My
three sons are the best shots at the bow-arm in the kingdom,
and they and myself will watch in turn every night."

When the night came, the gardener's eldest son took his
post in the garden, with his bow strung, and his arrow be-
tween his fingers, and watched, and watched. But at the
dead hour the king, that was wide awake, heard the flap-
ping of wings, and ran to the window. There was the
bright bird in the tree, and the boy fast asleep, sitting with
his back to the wall, and his bow on his lap. " Eise, you
lazy thief!" says the king, " there's the bird again, tatther-
ation to her !" Up jumped the poor fellow ; but while he
was fumbling with the arrow and the string, away was the
bird with the nicest apple on the tree. Well, to be sure,
how the king fumed and fretted, and how he abused the gar-
dener and the boy, and what a twenty-four hours he spent
till midnight came again !

He had his eye this time on the second son of the

48 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

gardener ; but though he was up and lively enough when
the clock began to strike twelve, it wasn't done with the
last bang when he saw him stretched like one dead on the
long grass, and saw the bright bird again, and heard the
flap of her wings, and saw her carry away the third apple.
The poor fellow woke with the roar the king let at him,
and even was time enough to let fly an arrow after the bird.
lie did not hit her, you may depend ; and though the king
was mad enough, he saw the poor fellows were under pish-
rogues, and could not help it.

Well, he had some hopes out of the youngest, for he was
a brave, active young fellow, that had everybody's good
word. There he was ready, and there was the king watch-
ing him, and talking to him at the first stroke of twelve.
At the last clang, the brightness coming before the bird
lighted up the wall and the trees, and the rushing of the
wings was heard as it flew into the branches ; but at the
same instant the crack of the arrow on her side might be
heard a quarter of a mile off. Down came the arrow and
a large bright feather along with it, and away was the bird,
with a screech that was enough to break the drum of your
ear. She hadn't time to carry off an apple ; and bedad,
when the feather was thrown up into the king's room it
was heavier than lead, and turned out to be the finest
beaten gold.

Well, there was great cooramuch made about the youngest
boy next day, and he watched night after night for a week,
but not a smite of a bird or bird's feather was to be seen,
and then the king told him to go home and sleep. Every
one admired the beauty of the gold feather beyant anything,
but the king was fairly bewitched. He was turning it round
and' round, and rubbing it again' his forehead and his nose
the live-long day ; and at last he proclaimed that he'd give
his daughter and half his kingdom to whoever would bring
him the bird with the gold feathers, dead or alive.

The gardener's eldest son had great consate out of him-
self, and away he set to try for the bird. In the afternoon
he sat down under a tree to rest himself, and eat a bit of
bread and cold meat that he had in his wallet, when up
comes as fine a looking fox as you'd see in the burrow of

THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER. 49

Muntin. " Musha, sir/' says he, " would you spare a bit
of that meat to a poor body that's hungry } " Well," says
the other, " you mast have the divel's own assurance, you
common robber, to ask me such a question. Here's the
answer," and he let fly at the moddhereen rua. The arrow
scraped from his side up over his back, as if he was made
of hammered iron, and stuck in a tree a couple of perches oif.
" Foul play/' says the fox; "but I respect your young bro-
ther, and will give you a bit of advice. At nightfall you'll
come into a village. One side of the street you'll see a
large room lighted up, and filled with young men and
women, dancing and drinking. The other side you'll see a
house with no light, only from the fire in the front room,
and no one near it but a man, and his wife, and their child.
Take a fool's advice, and get lodging there." With that he
curled his tail over his crupper, and trotted off.

The boy found things as the fox said, but begonies he
chose the dancing and drinking, and there we'll leave him.
In a week's time, when they got tired at home waiting for
him, the second son said he'd try his fortune, and off he set.
He was just as ill-natured and foolish as his brother, and
the same thing happened to him. Well, when a week was
over, away went the youngest of all, and as sure as the
hearth-money, he sat under the same tree, and pulled out
his bread and meat, and the same fox came up and saluted
him. Well, the young fellow shared his dinner with tin1
moddhereen, and he wasn't long beating about the bush,
but told the other he knew all about his business. " I'll
help you/' says he, " if I find you're biddable. So just at
nightfall you'll come into a village, .... Good-bye till
to-morrow." It was just as the fox said, but the boy took
care not to go near dancer, drinker, fiddler, or piper. He
got welcome in the quiet house to supper and bed, and was
on his journey next morning before the sun was the height
of the trees.

He wasn't gone a quarter of a mile when he saw the fox
coming out of a wood that was by the road- side. " Good
morrow, fox," says one ; " Good morrow, sir," says the other.
" Have you any notion how far you have to travel till you
find the golden bird T " Dickens a notion have I ; — how

4

50 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

could I ?" " Well, I have. She's in the King of Spain's
palace, and that's a good two hundred miles off." " Oh,
dear ! we'll be a week going." "No we won't. Sit down
on my tail, and we'll soon make the road short." " Tail
indeed ! that 'ud be the droll saddle, my poor moddhereen"
" Do as I tell you, or I'll leave you to yourself." Well,
rather than vex him he sat down on the tail that was
spread out level like a wing, and away they went like
thought. They overtook the wind that was before them,
and the wind that came after didn't overtake them. In
the afternoon, they stopped in a wood near the King of
Spain's palace, and there they staid till night-fall.

"JSow," says the fox, " I'll go before you to make the
minds of the guards easy, and you'll have nothing to do
but go from one lighted hall to another lighted hall till you
find the golden bird in the last. If you have a head on
you, you'll bring himself and his cage outside the door, and
no one then can lay hands on him or you. If you haven't a
head I can't help you, nor no one else." So he went over
to the gates.

In a quarter of an hour the boy followed, and in the first
hall he passed he saw a score of armed guards standing
upright, but all dead asleep. In the next he saw a dozen,
and in the next half a dozen, and in the next three, and in
the room beyond that there was no guard at all, nor lamp,
nor candle, but it was as bright as day ; for there was the
golden bird in a common wood and wire cage, and on the
table were the three apples turned into solid gold.

On the same table was the most lovely golden cage eye
ever beheld, and it entered the boy's head that it would be
a thousand pities not to put the precious bird into it, the
common cage was so unfit for her. Maybe he thought of
the money it was worth ; any how he made the exchange,
and he had soon good reason to be sorry for it. The in-
stant the shoulder of the bird's wing touched the golden
wires, he let such a squawk out of him as was enough to
break all the panes of glass in the windows, and at the
same minute the three men, and the half dozen, and the
dozen, and the score men, woke up and clattered their
swords and spears, and surrounded the poor boy, and jibed,

THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER. j I

and cursed, and swore at him, till lie didn't know whether
it's his foot or head he was standing on. They called the
king, and told him what happened, and he put on a very
grim face. "It's on a gibbet you ought to be this moment,"
says he, " but I'll give you a chance of your life, and of the
golden bird too. I lay you under prohibitions, and restric-
tions, and death, and destruction, to go and bring me the
King of Moroco's bay filly that outruns the wind, and leaps
over the walls of castle-bawns. When you fetch her into
the bawn of this palace, you must get the golden bird, and
liberty to go where you please."

Out passed the boy, very down-hearted, but as he went
along, who should come out of a brake but the fox again !

" Ah, my friend," says he, " I was right when I suspect-
ed you hadn't a head on you ; but I won't rub your hair
again' the grain. Get on my tail again, and when we come
to the king of Mor5co's palace we'll see what we can do."
So away they went like thought. The wind, &c, &c, &c.

Well, the nightfall came on them in a wood near the
palace, and says the fox, " I'll go and make things easy for
you at the stables, and when you are leading out the filly,
don't let her touch the door, nor door-posts, nor anything
but the ground, and that with her hoofs ; and if you haven't
a head on you once you are in the stable, you'll be worse
off than before."

So the boy delayed for a quarter of an hour, and then he
went into the big bawn of the palace. There were two
rows of armed men reaching from the gate to the stable,
and every man was in the depth of deep sleep, and through
them with the boy till he got into the stable. There was
the filly, as handsome a beast as ever stretched leg, and
there was one stable boy with a currycomb in his hand,
and another with a bridle, and another with a sieve of oats,
and another with an armfull of hay, and all as if they were
cut out of stone. The filly was the only live thing in
the place except himself. She had a common wood and
leather saddle on her back, but a golden saddle with the
nicest work on it was hung from the post, and he thought
it the greatest pity not to put it in place of the other.
Well, I believe there was some pishrogues over it for a

4*

52 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

saddle ; any how lie took off the other, and put the gold
one in its place.

Out came a squeel from the filly's throat when she felt
the strange article, that might be heard from Tombrick to
Bunclody, and all as ready were the armed men and the
stable boys to run and surround the ornadhan of a boy,
and the king of Moroco was soon there along with the rest,
with a face on him as black as the sole of your foot.
After he stood enjoying the abuse the poor boy got from
everybody for some time, he says to him, " You deserve
high hanging for your impedence, but I'll give you a chance
for your life and the filly too. I lay on you all sorts of
prohibitions, and restrictions, and death, and destruction
to go bring me Princess Golden Locks, the King of Greek's
daughter. When you deliver her into my hand, you may
have the ' daughter of the wind/ and welcome. Come in
and take your supper and your rest, and be off at the flight
of night."

The poor boy was down in the mouth, you may suppose,
as he was walking away next morning, and very much
ashamed when the fox looked up in his face after coming
out of the wood. " What a thing it is," says he, " not to
have a head when a body wants it worst; and here we have
a fine long journey before us to the king of Greek's palace.
The worse luck now, the same alwaj^s. Here, get on my
tail, and we'll be making the road shorter." So he sat on
the fox's tail, and swift as thougnt they went. The wind
that, &c, &c, &c, and in the evening they were eating
their bread and cold meat in the wood near the castle.

" Now," says the fox, when they were done, " I'll go
before you to make things easy. Follow me in a quarter of
an hour. Don't let Princess Golden Locks touch the jambs
of the doors with her hands, or hair, or clothes, and if you're
asked any favour, mind how you answer. Once she's out-
side the door, no one can take her from you." Into the
palace walked the boy at the proper time, and there were
the score, and the dozen, and the half dozen, and the three
guards all standing up or leaning on their arms, and all
dead asleep, and in the farthest room of all was the Princess
Golden Locks, as lovely as Venus herelf. She was asleep

THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER. j3

in one chair, and her father, the King of Greek, in another.
He stood before her for ever so long, with the love sinking
deeper into his heart every minute, till at last he went
down on one knee, and took her darling white hand in his
hand, and kissed it.

When she opened her eyes, she was a little frightened,
but I believe not very angry, for the boy, as I call him,
was a fine handsome young fellow, and all the respect and
love that ever you could think of was in his face. She
asked him what he wanted, and he stammered, and blushed,
and began his story six times, before she understood it.
" And would you give me up to that ugly black king of
Moroco ? " says she. " I am obliged to do so," says he,
" by prohibitions, and restrictions, and death, and destruc-
tion, but ril have his life and free you, or lose my own.
If I can't get you for my wife, my days on the earth will
be short." " Well," says she, " let me take leave of my
father at any rate." u Ah, I can't do that," says he, "or
they'd all waken, and myself would be put to death, or
sent to some task worse than any I got yet." But she
asked leave at any rate to kiss the old man ; — that wouldn't
waken him, and then she'd go. How could he refuse her,
and his heart tied up in every curl of her hair ] But,
bedad, the moment her lips touched her father's, he let a
cry, and every one of the score, the dozen .... guards
woke up, and clashed their arms, and were going to make
gibbets of the foolish boy.

But the king ordered them to hold their hands, till he'd
be insensed of what it was all about, and when he heard
the boy's story he gave him a chance for his life. "There
is," says he, " a great heap of clay in front of the palace,
that won't let the sun shine on the walls in the middle of
summer. Every one that ever worked at it found two
shovelfulls added to it for ' every one they threw away.
Eemove it, and I'll let my daughter go with you. If
you're the man I suspect you to be, I think she'll be in no
danger of being wife to that yellow Molott."

Early next morning was the boy tackled to his work,
and for every shovelfull he flung away two came back on
him, and at last he could hardly get out of the heap that

54 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

gathered round him. Well, the poor fellow scrambled out
some way, and sat down on a sod, and he'd have cried only
for the shame of it. He began at it in ever so many places,
and one was still worse than the other, and in the heel of
the evening, when he was sitting with his head between his
hands, who should be standing before him but the fox ?
" Well, my poor fellow," says he, " you're low enough.
Go in: I won't say anything to add to your trouble. Take
your supper and your rest : to-morrow will be a new day."

" How is the work going off," says the king when they
were at supper. "Faith, your Majesty," says the poor boy,
" it's not going off, but coming on it is. I suppose you'll
have the trouble of digging me out at sunset to-morrow,
and waking me." " I hope not," says the princess with a
smile on her kind face, and the boy was as happy as
anything the rest of the evening.

He was wakened up next morning with voices shouting,
and bugles blowing, and drums beating, and such a hulli-
bulloo he never heard in his life before. He ran out to see
what was the matter, and there, where the heap of clay was
the evening before, were soldiers, and servants, and lords,
and ladies, dancing like mad for joy that it was gone.
"Ah, my poor fox!" says he to himself, "this is your
work." Well there was little delay about his return. The
King was going to send a great retinue with the princess
and himself, but he wouldn't let him take the trouble. "I
have a friend," says he, "that will bring us both to the
King of Moroco's palace in a day, d — fly away with him !"

There was great crying when she was parting from her
father. " Ah ! " says he, " what a lonesome life I'll have
now ! Your poor brother in the power of that wicked
witch, and kept away from us, and now you taken from me
in my old age ! " Well, while they both were walking on
through the wood, and he telling her how much he loved
her, out walked the fox from behind a brake, and in a short
time he and she were sitting on the brush, and holding one
another fast for fear of slipping off, and away they went
like thought. The wind, &c, &c, and in the evening he
and she were in the big bawn of the King of Moroco's
castle.

THE GREEK PRINCESS AND THE YOUNG GARDENER. $$

"Well/' says lie to the boy, "you done your duty well;
bring out the bay filly. I'd give the full of the bawn of
such fillies, if I had them, for this handsome princess. Get
on your steed, and here is a good purse of guineas for the
road." " Thank you," says he. " I suppose you'll let me
shake hands with the princess before I start." " Yes, in-
deed, and welcome." Well, he was some little time about
the hand-shaking, and before it was over he had her fixed
snug behind him; and while you could count three, he, and
she, and the filly were through all the guards, and a hun-
dred perches away. On they went, and next morning they
were in the wood near the King of Spain's palace, and there
was the fox before them. " Leave your princess here with
me," says he, " and go get the golden bird and the three
apples. If you don't bring us back the filly along with the
bird, I must carry you both home myself."

Well, when the King of Spain saw the boy and the filly
in the bawn, he made the golden bird, and the golden cage,
and the golden apples be brought out and handed to him,
and was very thankful and very glad of his prize. But the
boy could not part with the nice beast without petting it,
and rubbing it, and while no one was expecting such a
thing, he was up on its back, and through the guards, and
a hundred perches away, and he wasn't long till he came
where he left his princess and the fox.

They hurried away till they were safe out of the King of
Spain's land, and then they went on easier; and if I was to
tell you all the loving things they said to one another, the
story wouldn't be over till morning. When they were pass-
ing the village of the dance house, they found his two
brothers begging, and they brought them along. When
they came to where the fox appeared first, he begged the
young man to cut off his head and his tail. He would not
do it for him; he shivered at the very thought, but the
eldest brother was ready enough. The head and tail va-
nished with the blows, and the body changed into the finest
young man you could see, and who was he but the princess's
brother that was bewitched. Whatever joy they had be-
fore, they had twice as much now, and when they arrived
at the palace bonfires were set blazing, oxes roasting, and

5 6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

puncheons of wine put out in the lawn. The young Prince
of Greek was married to the King's daughter, and the
prince's sister to the gardener's son. He and she went a
shorter way back to her father's house, with many attend-
ants, and the King was so glad of the golden bird and the
golden apples, that he sent a wagon full of gold and a wagon
full of silver along with them.

THE GIANT AND HIS ROYTAL SERVANTS.

There was once a very good king and queen that would
be as happy as the day was long only they had no children.
So as they were one day sitting in a garden chair by the
edge of the pond at the bottom of the lawn, and talking
how lonesome the palace was for young people, a giant
stepped out of the grove that was behind them, and says
he, " King and queen, if you'll give me your eldest son
when he's twenty-one years of age, I'll give you a necklace,
ma'am, and so that you never put it off night or day, you
will have four sons and three daughters in the next ten
years. I'll be here to-morrow at the same hour to know
your win."

They talked and they talked all the rest of that day,
and till they went to sleep, but the end was — they'd take
the giant's offer: — twenty -two years was a long time off,
and many a thing falls out between the milking of the cow
and the print of butter coming to the table. They agreed
to the giant's offer, and he went away well pleased. In less
than a year's time a prince was born, and the queen was
not tired till she had her four sons and her three daughters
sitting at the table with herself and her husband. They
were all as handsome as the sun, moon, and stars, and
there was no sorrow till the eldest prince was near his
twenty-first birthday.

The very day to the hour, they were sitting in the very
same seat when the giant stepped out of the grove, and de-
manded their eldest born. " I'll wait for him here," said
he : " don't keep me long/' They went up to the castle

THE GIANT AND HIS ROYAL SERVANTS. $j

and a young man grandly dressed soon came, and appeared
before the giant. They talked a little, and the giant then
handed him a beautiful little whip. " If I make you a
present of that nice whip, what will you do with it. ' " Ah,
won't I whip away the cats and dogs when they go near
the roast and boiled in the kitchen !' u Go back and tell
your master and mistress that it is the heir and not the
kitchen-boy I want;* Another young man came down.
" Are you the eldest prince in this palace V " Yes." " Isn't
that a nice whip I * " Ah, isn't it? " " If I give it to you
for a present, what will you do with it 1 " "Won't I whip
away the hounds when they want to eat up the fox, brush
and all ! " " Go and tell your master and mistress that if
they don't send me their eldest son and heir, I'll burn
down their castle and theirselves and all their children
along with it."

The prince came at last, and when he looked in his face
he knew it was the man he wanted. They got into a boat,
and though the pond was not twenty perches broad, and
the boat went as swift as an arrow, they were an hour be-
fore they got to the other side, and there the prince found
a strange country round him, and the mountain that was
fifty miles before them in the morning was now fifty miles
behind them. They mounted two horses that were wait-
ing for them, and these went like the wind, and when they
were after passing seven mountains, seven glens, and seven
moors, they came to the giant's castle on a hill.

They went in, and they got their supper, but the giant
took his supper first, and made the prince and a very beau-
tiful young girl wait on him, before they were allowed to
get their own. "Now," said he, "the girl will show you
to the room where you are to take your rest. She is a
king's daughter as well as you are a king's son. A witch
foretold that I should be waited on by princes and prin-
cesses, and now it's come to pass. I'll tell you in the morn-
ing, your work for to-morrow."

When breakfast was over, he took the prince into the
bawn. "There," said he, "is a stable that wasn't cleaned
for seven years. I am going to look after my flocks and
herds ; have it so clean when I return at sunset that I may

58 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OP IRELAND.

roll a golden apple in at one door, and out at another."
Away he went, and to work fell the prince ; but for every
sprong-f nil he threw out, two came in, and when the prin-
cess brought him his dinner, there he was standing outside
the door, and the stable as full of litter and dung as it could
hold.

A smile came on her face as she saw his sorrowful looks,
but she spoke cheerfully. " Come, prince, take the dinner
I have cooked for you, and if you don't object I'll join you:
we are equal in birth and we are equal in misfortune." He
had little appetite, but he was glad of anything that brought
himself and the beautiful princess together. So while they
were eating, she told him that she was secured in the same
manner as himself; that he was the second, and that in
some years he'd have scores of servants, all sons and daugh-
ters of kings, but that whoever could perform three tasks
he'd get would have a chance of escape. " I had a god-
mother," said she, " who was an enchantress, and I have
power that the giant knows nothing about. Look here."
She took the sprong, flung out three fulls of it, and all
that was in the stable followed it into the great lough at
the bottom of the bawn.

Glad enough was the prince, and if he did'nt thank the
princess, and make all the loving speeches in the world to
her, it's no matter. They didn't feel the time passing till
the giant came home, and very bitter he looked when he
found the stable cleared. He said not a word all the time
they were waiting on him at supper, but when they were
ready for bed, he told the prince he had another small job
for him in the morning.

Sure enough, the task he put on him the second day was
to catch a filly in the paddock. " There is a golden bridle
for you," said he, " and if you succeed, that bridle is your
own." Away went the giant to look after his flocks and
herds, and a sore forenoon the poor prince had, chasing the
filly round the paddock, and striving to tempt her with
a boorawn of oats. But dinner-time came, and there was
his dear princess coming over the stile with his dinner.
She knew he'd have no appetite in the state he was in,
and so the first thing she done after laying down the cloth

THE GIANT AND HIS ROYAL SERVANTS. 59

on the grass, was to take an old jaggedy bridle with a rusty
bit out of her pocket, and shake it over her head. As soon
as the filly seen it, she run to them capering, and shaking
her ears, and stood like a lamb till it was fitted on her.
Well, such a dinner, and such loving talk as they had with
each other till near sunset, and then she went in, the way
the giant wouldn't see them together. As cross as he
looked before, he looked ten times crosser now, but he kej t
in his anger.

Next morning after breakfast, said he to the prince,
" There is a tree at the corner of the paddock, and a raven's
nest in the branches of it. There are &ve eggs in the nest,
and I want them for my supper to-night. If you break or
lose e'er a one of them you needn't expect much good treat-
ment from me. If you bring them safe and sound, I'll
marry you to the princess there after supper, and you will
live as happy as the day is long."

Well, I think that women aren't so selfish somehow as
men. The prince looked glad enough, but there wasn't a
morsel of gladness on the princess's face, and so everything
went on as usual next morning. The giant went to look
after his goats, and sheep, and cattle, the princess readied
up the house, and the prince went down to the tree. A
wearisome tree it was on him. The body of it was as
smooth as that table, and there wasn't a twig sticking out
of it for more than a score of feet from the top of the ditch
where it grew. He'd grip it with arms and legs till he'd
be up about six feet, and then he'd come down with a flop,
and after a little rest he'd spit in his palms, and try it
again, and down he'd come with a flop once more.

He was worse off to-day when the darling princess came
with his dinner than he was the other days, and as much
as she pitied him, she couldn't help laughing at the state
the legs and arms of his clothes were in. He didn't
much enjoy her merriment, but she soon gave him relief.
She took from her pocket two magic rods and gave them
to him, and told him how to use them, and he was soon
climbing the tree like a may-boy. The rods went into the
wood like a nail into a cabbage stalk, and then when his
left foot was on one he pulled the other out, and stuck it

60 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

in for his right foot, and so on till he got among the branches.
When he came to the nest, he put one egg in his mouth,
one in each pocket, and two in the breasts of his coat, and
was soon down and eating the happiest dinner he ever
tasted.

And says he when the cloth was removed, " What matter,
my darling, if the giant keeps us here with him itself when
he marries us 1 Love will make our lives as happy as they
can be. Why, I don't wish for anything in the world only
to be in your company, and be looking at you, and hearing
you speak." " Don't once think, prince," said she, " that
Til be satisfied with such marriage as the giant can put on
us, nor to see you and myself and whatever children
God would send all his slaves. Don't say a single word
when he goes about marrying us. You may be sure I
won't open my lips, and when he sends us into the same
room, you'll know my intentions better."

It was all as she said, and when the prince and princess
were sent by the giant into the room, she pointed out three
little images of women, one on the chimney-piece, one on
the table, and one on the window-seat. She pricked her
finger, and let a drop of blood fall on the mouth of every
little image, and then said, " By virtue of my magic power,
I charge you to answer the giant's three questions." She
then went out through a door that couldn't be noticed from
the rest of the wall where it was set. He followed her, and
they went down to the stable where the filly was eating its
hay. He bridled and saddled the beast, got into his seat,
set her behind him, cleared the bawn gate, and to the road
with them in the direction of his father's palace.

The giant went to bed, and about nine o'clock, he cried
out, " Prince, are you asleep 1 " " Not yet," was the answer
that came from the mantle-piece. At midnight he cried
out, " Prince, are you asleep? " " Going asleep," says the
image on the table. At one o'clock he cried again, " Prince,
are you asleep 1 " " Dead asleep," says the image on the
window-stool. " That's well," says the giant, and himself
went off asleep at once.

Next morning he knocked at the door, and knocked, and
knocked again, and then he burst it in. There was no

THE GIANT AND HIS ROYAL SERVANTS. 6 1

one there but the three images, and these he broke in a
thousand pieces. He saw the hidden door open, and
guessed what happened, and to the road with him. The
wind before him he overtook, and the wind after him
didn't overtake him. About noon the princess cried out,
" I feel the hot breath of the giant at my back ; put your
hand in the filly's right ear, take out what you'll find, and
fling it behind you." He found a twig of wild ash, turned
round, and flung it at the giant, who was sweeping down
on them like a tempest. Up sprung a tangled wood be-
tween them, and the roar the giant let out of him might be
heard ten miles off. There they left him, tearing himself
through brambles and spikes, and on they flew.

About three hours after, the princess cried out again,
" I feel the giant's breath scorching my back : put your
hand into the filly's left ear, and fling what you'll find in it
at him." He did so, and found a bubble of water. Look-
ing back, there was the giant like a devouring fire racing in
on them, but when he threw the bubble at him, a great
broad lake appeared where the grass and bushes and stones
were a few minutes before, and as fast as the filly went, the
water widened after her. In he dashed, and the heat of
his body sent the water hissing and sputtering up into the
clouds. But he went through it like an eel or a salmon,
and just as the sun was setting, the princess cried out once
more, "The giant's breath is scorching my back. Alight,
and throw this apple as straight as you can at his forehead.
Be steady. If you miss we are lost." Down he got, took
the apple, and just as the giant was within ten perches of
him, he flung it with force and courage. The noise it made
on his forehead was like a cannon ball striking a rock.
The giant fell like a huge tree and never drew breath again.

They were now at the edge of the wood where the prince's
father's palace was built ; but when they got to the gate-
house, the princess would not go further. Said she to him,
" There is another trial before us. Go you up to the castle,
and tell them what you like, and come back for me. But
if you kiss anyone, or let anyone kiss you, it is likely we
shall never be man and wife." So she staid walking about,
and he went up the walk to the hall-door.

62 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

I needn't tell you what joy there was before him, and
how all his family gathered round him, and hugged him,
but thought it mighty queer that he kept his hand on his
mouth, and wouldn't let even his mother kiss him. Well,
things were getting a little quiet, and he was just beginning
to tell about his princess and where she was, when a for-
ward young damsel, that was striving to make him fond of
her before the giant took him away, burst through the
crowd, and cried, " Oh, is this my betrothed prince that's
come back to us V and bedad, before he could defend him-
self, she gave him a smack that sounded like the slap of a
wet shoe on a flag. The same instant he lost all memory
of what happened since the giant took him away, and stood
like a fool in the middle of the crowd. Well, a great feast
was made, and the forward lady sat by his side, and there
was nothing but joy, and in a day or two he was to be
married.

After the princess walked about for an hour, she grew
very melancholy and said to herself, " Ah, I guessed what
would happen, but I'll recover him yet." She asked the
gate-keeper's wife would she give her house room for a week
or two, and instead of promising to pay her well, she laid
down five guineas on the table. They made her welcome,
and there she staid, knitting and sewing at the window, and
the young gentlemen of the court used often pass by to have
a look at her, and the ladies undervalued her beauty, and
still they were speaking of her continually at the palace.
The prince found himself very much disturbed every time
he had a sight of her.

At last the wedding-day came, and they were all after
dinner, and about to walk into the chapel to have the mar-
riage celebrated, when the princess came into the hall very
nicely dressed, and asked the king if she might make some
entertainment for the company. He gave her leave, and
she took a nice little cock and hen out of a bag and set them
on the table, and threw some oats before them, and the hen
began to pick. The cock drove her away, and she cried
out, " Ah, prince, is that my reward for cleaning out the
stable for you ? " The bridegroom did not understand the
meaning, and she threw some more oats. The cock drove

THE GIANT AND HIS ROYAL SERVANTS. 6$

away the lien again, and again she reminded him of catch-
ing the filly and enabling him to climb the tree. At last,
when he drove her away the third time, she cried, " Oh
you ungrateful prince, is this the way you reward me for
shedding my blood for you, and saving your life ? " The
princess at that moment stretched her hand towards the
prince, and when he saw the mark of the cut, he gave a
great shout, caught her in his arms, and cried, 'fcYou are
my lost bride indeed, I'll have no other." His memory
was come back to him, and he explained to the company
all that happened to him in the giant's house and after,
and all the princess did for him. Such hugging and kiss-
ing as she got from the king and queen and their children
you never heard of, and all the company soon went into the
chapel, and the wedding was celebrated.

And indeed the forward bride was so clever with a fool-
ish young lord that she forsook when the prince returned,
that he asked leave of the king and queen and the bishop
to have a second wedding the same day. il The more the
merrier," said they, and the king was glad, as she couldn't
go about making a blowing- horn of her disappointment.
The princess never again reminded her husband what she
ventured for him, and the forward lady never let a day pass
without insensiug her husband how lucky he was to catch
herself.

THE LAZY BEAUTY AND HER AUNTS.

There was once a poor widow woman, who had a daughter
that was as handsome as the day, and as lazy as a pig,
saving your presence. The poor mother was the most in-
dustrious person in the townland, and was a particularly
good hand at the spinning-wheel. It was the wish of her
heart that her daughter should be as handy as herself; but
she'd get up late, eat her breakfast before she'd finish her
prayers, and then go about dawdling, and anything she
handled seemed to be burning her fingers. She drawled
her words as if it was a great trouble to her to speak, or

64 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF lit ELAND.

as if her tongue was as lazy as her body. Many a heart-
scald her poor mother got with her, and still she was only
improving like dead fowl in August.

Well, one morning that things were as bad as they could
be, and the poor woman was giving tongue at the rate of a
mill-clapper, who should be riding by but the king's son.
"Oh dear, oh dear, good woman !" said he, " you must have
a very bad child to make you scold so terribly. Sure it
can't be this handsome girl that vexed you !" " Oh, please
your Majesty, not at all," says the old dissembler. " I was
only checking her for working herself too much. Would
your Majesty believe it ? She spins three pounds of flax
in a day, weaves it into linen the next, and makes it all
into shirts the day after.'; " My gracious," says the prince,
"she's the very lady that will just fill my mother's eye,
and herself 's the greatest spinner in the kingdom. Will
you put on your daughter's bonnet and cloak if you please,
ma'am, and set her behind me*? Why, my mother will be
so delighted with her, that perhaps she'll make her her
daughter-in-law in a week, that is, if the young woman her-
self is agreeable."

Well, between the confusion, and the joy, and the fear of
being found out, the women didn't know what to do ; and
before they could make up their minds, young Anty (Anas-
tasia) was set behind the prince, and away he and his at-
tendants went, and a good heavy purse was left behind with
the mother. She pullillued a long time after all was gone,
in dread of something bad happening to the poor girl.

The prince couldn't judge of the girl's breeding or wit
from the few answers he pulled out of her. The queen was
struck in a heap when she saw a young country girl sitting
behind her son, but when she saw her handsome face, and
heard all she could do, she didn't think she could make too
much of her. The prince took an opportunity of whisper-
ing her that if she didn't object to be his wife she must
strive to please his mother. Well, the evening went by,
and the prince and Anty were getting fonder and fonder of
one another, but the thought of the spinning used to send
the cold to her heart every moment. When bed-time came,
the old queen went along with her to a beautiful bed-room,

THE LAZY BEAUTY AND HER AUNTS. 6$

and when she was bidding her good night, she pointed to
a heap of fine flax, and said, " You may begin as soon as
you like to-morrow morning, and I'll expect to see these
three pounds in nice thread the morning after." Little did
the poor girl sleep that night. She kept crying and lament-
ing that she didn't mind her mother's advice better. When
she was left alone next morning, she began with a heavy
heart ; and though she had a nice mahogany wheel and the
finest flax you ever saw, the thread was breaking every
moment. One while it was as fine as a cobweb, and the
next as coarse as a little boy's whipcord. At last she
pushed her chair back, let her hands fall in her lap, and
burst out a crying.

A small old woman with surprising big feet appeared
before her at the same moment, and said, " What ails you,
you handsome colleen V* u An' haven't I all that flax to
spin before to-morrow morning, and I'll never be able to
have even five yards of fine thread of it put together." " An'
would you think bad to ask poor Colliagh Cushmor (Old-
woman Big-foot) to your wedding with the young prince ]
If you promise me that, all your three pounds will be made
into the finest of thread while you're taking your sleep to-
night." " Indeed you must be there and welcome, and I'll
honour you all the days of your life." " Very well -, stay
in your room till tea-time, and tell the queen she may come
in for her thread as early as she likes to-morrow morning."
It was all as she said; and the thread was finer and evener
than the gut you see with fly-fishers. u My brave girl you
were !" says the queen. I'll get my own mahogany loom
brought into you, but you needn't do anything more to-day.
Work and rest, work and rest, is my motto. To-morrow
you'll weave all this thread, and who knows what may
happen V

The poor girl was more frightened this time than the last,
and she was so afraid to lose the prince. She didn't even
know how to put the warp in the gears, nor how to use the
shuttle, and she was sitting in the greatest grief, when a
little woman who wras mighty well-shouldered about the
hips all at once appeared to her, told her her name was
Colliach Cromanmor, and made the same bargain with her

66 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

as Colliach Cushmor. Great was the queen's pleasure when
she found early in the morning a web as fine and white as
the finest paper you ever saw. " The darling you were !"
says she. " Take your ease with the ladies and gentlemen
to-day, and if you have all this made into nice shirts to-
morrow you may present one of them to my son, and be
married to him out of hand."

Oh, wouldn't you pity poor Anty the next day, she was
now so near the prince, and, maybe, would be soon so far from
him. But she waited as patiently as she could with scis-
sors, needle, and thread in hand, till a minute after noon.
Then she was rejoiced to see the third old woman appear.
She had a big red nose, and informed Anty that people
called her Shron Mor Rua on that account. She was up
to her as good as the others, for a dozen fine shirts were
lying on the table when the queen paid her an early visit.

Now there was nothing talked of but the wedding, and
I needn't tell you it was grand. The poor mother was
there along with the rest, and at the dinner the old queen
could talk of nothing but the lovely shirts, and how happy
herself and the bride would be after the honeymoon, spin-
ning, and weaving, and sewing shirts and shifts without
end. The bridegroom didn't like the discourse, and the
bride liked it less, and he was going to say something, when
the footman came up to the head of the table, and said to
the bride, "Your ladyship's aunt, Colliach Cushmor, bade
me ask might she come in." The bride blushed and wished
she was seven miles under the floor, but well became the
prince, — " Tell Mrs. Cushmor," said he, " that any relation
of my bride's will be always heartily welcome wherever she
and I are." In came the woman with the big foot, and
got a seat near the prince. The old queen didn't like it
much, and after a few words she asked rather spitefully,
"Dear ma'am, what's the reason your foot is so big?"
" Musha, faith, your majesty, I was standing almost all my
life at the spinning-wheel, and that's the reason." " I de-
clare to you, my darling," said the prince, " I'll never allow
you to spend one hour at the same spinning-wheel." The
same footman said again, " Your ladyship's aunt, Colliach
Cromanmor, wishes to come in, if the genteels and yourself

THE LAZY BEAUTY AND HER AUNTS. 67

have no objection." Very sharoose (displeased) was Prin-
cess Anty, but the prince sent her welcome, and she took
her seat, and drank healths apiece to the company. " May
I ask, ma'am f ' says the old queen, " why you're so wide
half way between the head and the feet V9 " That, your
majesty, is owing to sitting all my life at the loom." "By
my sceptre," says the prince, " my wife shall never sit there
an hour." The footman again came up. " Your ladyship's
aunt, Colliach Shron Mor Eua, is asking leave to come into
the banquet." More blushing on the bride's face, but the
bridegroom spoke out cordially, "Tell Mrs. Shron Mor Eua
she's doing us an honour." In came the old woman, and
great respect she got near the top of the table, but the peo-
ple down low put up their tumblers and glasses to their
noses to hide the grins. " Ma'am," says the old queen,
" will you tell us, if you please, why your nose is so big
and red V " Throth, your majesty, my head was bent
down over the stitching all my life, and all the blood in
my body ran into my nose." " My darling," said the prince
to Anty, " if ever I see a needle in your hand, I'll run a
hundred miles from you."

" And in troth, girls and boys, though it's a diverting
story, I don't think the moral is good ; and if any of you
thuckeens go about imitating Anty in her laziness, you'll
find it won't thrive with you as it did with her. She was
beautiful beyond compare, which none of you are, and she
had three powerful fairies to help her besides. There's no
fairies now, and no prince or lord to ride by, and catch you
idling or working ; and maybe, after all, the prince and
herself were not so very happy when the cares of the world
or old age came on them."

Thus was the tale ended by poor old Shebale (Sybilla)
Father Murphy's housekeeper, in Coolbawn, Barony of
Bantry, about half a century since.

THE GILLA NA GRUAGA DONNA.

There was once a boy, and his name was Gilla na Gruaga
Donna (the fellow with the brown hair), and he had no

68 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

work to do at home, and little to eat; so he said he'd go
look for service. His mother gave him his cake and a good
piece of cold bacon in his little bag, and he went on with a
light heart, singing like a lark. He sat down in the after-
noon by the side of a ditch, to eat a bit of his bread and
his meat, and if he did so sure came up an old beggarwoman
and asked for some charity. " Faith/' said he, " I haven't
a halfpenny — brass, gold, or silver about me, but if you
don't object to a bit of bread and cold meat, here's a share
of what's going." She took what he offered, and prayed all
sorts of good prayers for him. At nightfall my poor fellow
didn't see a house in sight, and he put up with a bunch of
withered grass in a dry ditch.

While he was asleep, he thought a beautiful woman came
and stood over him, and said, " Gilla na Gruaga Donna,
because you shared the little you had with me, here's a
purse with one guinea in it, and every time you take one
out, another will come in its place." When he awoke in
the morning, and looked about him, he found the same
sort of purse he saw in his dream lying by his side, and,
better than that, a guinea in it. " This is luck," said
he, but he didn't believe that it would be renewed for all
that.

However, he came to a town and gave his guinea at the
eating house to be changed, and when he was putting his
change back, bedad he found another guinea there to keep
it company. " This is just what the vision said," says
Gilla to himself, and he turned back, and made his family
comfortable, and got such a taste for travelling that he set
out again. He came to Dublin, and bought fine clothes,
and a watch to put in his fob, and a coach-and-six, and
drove along to see foreign countries.

As he was rattling along by a king's palace, he happened
to look up, and there, at a window, was the finest young
princess he ever beheld. So he bade his coachman drive
to the gate-house, and sent up his footman to ask leave of
the king to see his lawn and his demesne. The king asked
the man about his master, but he could only tell he be-
lieved he was a great lord going about for his pleasure. He
had no end of money, and didn't seem to know what to do

THE GTLLA NA GRUAGA DONNA. 69

with it. So the king sent down word to the gentleman to
go about in his lawn and his demense as much as he liked ;
and while he was driving, who should meet him but the
king himself and his daughter, and she in her side- saddle
on the back of a dawney little pony. " Well, they weren't
long getting acquainted. Gilla got out of his coach and
walked by the princess's pony ; and nothing would do the
king but to invite the stranger to come and spend a week
or so at the palace.

It wasn't long till Gilla and the princess were as fond
of one another as if they were acquainted a hundred
years. The king often asked Gilla what rank of life he was
born in, but he didn't like to say he was only a poor cot-
tierman's son. One evening when the cunning king found
Gilla very comfortable — and no wonder he was comfortable !
the princess told him that very day that she'd marry him
if her father agreed — made him tipsy, and got out of him
that he was only a poor man's son, and that it was a magic *
purse, that was never without a guinea in it, that put it in
his power to travel in state. " Ah, show me this wonder-
ful purse !" said the king; and Gilla was fool enough to do
so. The king held it in his hand for a long time, and the
next evening they were very merry again. " I am never
tired looking at your nice purse,'; said he ; and, indeed, so
it appeared, for he kept turning it and re-turning it in his
hands for ever so long ; and once, when Gilla' s eyes were
another way, he changed it for one he got made that very
day, so like it that scarcely anyone could see the smallest
differ.

Next day they were all driving out, and Gilla gave the
guinea and change that was left by the cunning king in his
purse, away to some poor people. But when he put in his
hand again to pay turnpike, or something or other, dickens
a guinea or a half-penny was there. Well, he turned all
manner of colours, looked at the purse, and was sure it was
the same one, and didn't know what in the world to think.
When he had an opportunity he told the princesss what
happened, and said he'd be obliged to leave the palace.
" Oh, what matter ! " saK she. " Sure, if you are of good
blood my father won't mind whether you are poor or rich."

70 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

So she went to her father, and told him what happened, hut
she was sorry enough for what she done. The king said it
wasn't a nice thing to he on such free terms with a stranger,
and hade her go to her own rooms till she heard from him.
When Gilla inquired for the princess next morning, they
told him she was on a visit to an aunt that was dying fifty
miles away; and when he asked for the king, they told
him he was husy at his accounts. " Oh, ho !" said Gilla to
himself, " my welcome here is worn out." So he left his
best respects to the king and the princess, and he was
obliged to borrow money from his coachman to give some-
thing to the servants. He drove to Dublin, sold his coach
and horses, and paid his servants, and then hadn't one shil-
ling to rub again another in his pocket. He then exchanged
his clothes for common things and some little money to boot,
and set out on foot towards home. He was eating his piece
of bread and his bit of cold bacon next day, when who
should come up to him but the very same beggarwoman.
Well, they bade one another the time of day, and he shared
his meal with her. The same night he had the same vision,
but the lady checked him for showing his magic purse to
any one, and told him she'd try him once more with another
gift. She laid a cloak on the bed, and said that while he
kept it on he could be any where he wished. When his
eyes opened next morning he saw the cloak, sure enough,
and then he began to recollect what a long time the king
was fiddling with his purse. " As sure as fate," said he,
" he has it : what a deceitful old rogue ! I'll soon see whe-
ther he's guilty or not." He put on the cloak, and wished
himself in the king's bed-room. And there he was while
you'd wink your eye, and there was the king with a miserly
face on him, reckoning piles of guineas, an old night- cap on
his head, and a week's growth of beard about his mouth.
The purse was on the table, and his trembling fingers pull-
ing out guinea after guinea. " Ah, you wicked old man,"
says Gilla, " is this the way you treated me 1 " He darted
on the purse, but the king's fingers were like a vice, and he
roared out, "Thieves, thieves! murder, robbery!" In run
three or four servants, and on Gilla they pounced. He had
nothing for it but to run to the window, throw it up, and

THE GILLA NA GRUAGA DONNA. 7 I

dart out. Ovoch I his cloak caught in the sash, and he was
glad to light on the ground with sound hones. To the heels
with him, and as it was early, and few stirring, he got away.

So he was on the shuchraan [helpless condition] again,
and set out for home with a few shillings he had still left.
To make a long story short, he met the beggarwoman again,
had a vision again, and this time he got a bugle-horn that
would make all the soldiers that ever heard it, follow him
and fight for him.

So he turned back, and never stopped till he came to
where the king was standing at his window reviewing his
troops. As soon as Gilla came up, he blew his bugle, and
all the soldiers shouted out, and gathered round him, and
asked him what they'd do for him.

" I'll soon show you that," said he. So he stepped over
to where the king was standing very much surprised, and
said ; " No one could treat another worse than you did
me ; but if you give me the princess in marriage, and allow
me back my purse and my cloak, 111 make peace and alli-
ance with you." "I must first consult my ministers," said
the king, " but you'll have my answer before nine o'clock
to-morrow." So Gilla camped his men in the lawn, and
he had a nice tent to himself that night.

At dawn he was awoke by some one fumbling about in
the tent, and what did he see but the treacherous king with
his own magic cloak upon him, taking down the bugle-horn
where he negligently left it the evening before, instead of
keeping it about his own neck. "Oh, }rou old robber ! "
said he, springing out at him, but the horn was in his hands,
the cloak on his back, and himself away like a sighe gaoithe
[fairy blast]. Gilla knew he had no time to lose. He
popped on his breeches and coat, and was soon making his
ground good. It was time, for he was hardly clear of the
sleeping soldiers when the bugle was heard sounding at the
king's window, and the soldiers all dressing themselves in
the greatest hurry to run and hear his commands.

He was worse off now than ever. He sat down in a dry
ditch to eat his bread and bacon in the afternoon, but his
beggar woman never came near him, and at night he had
no shelter but a couple of trees. He made his bed on dry

/ 2 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

grass under one of them, and he had a vision of the same
beautiful lady ; but this time she had displeasure on her
face. He thought she was going to speak once or twice,
but she stopped herself just as her lips were opening.
When he woke, it was a fine sunny morning, and he found
himself hungry. Over his head were the loveliest coloured
apples, and in the other tree some dull- coloured pears. Up
he stretched his hand, and plucked an apple, and ate it.
It was very sweet, but before he could get another into his
mouth he felt something queer about his nose. It was
tickling him, and beginning to feel very heavy, and before
you could count three, the end of it was down on the ground,
and ploughing away through the grass. " Oh, Gracious ! 7;
says he, "what's this for ] " But while he spoke, he felt it
pulling his head down, so that he was obliged to squat as
low as he could to ease his face of the weight. The end of
his nose was now at the very end of the field.

I cant't tell, nor could you feel, the state he was in, for,
please God, nothing of the kind will ever happen to one of
ourselves • but when he was looking at it running over the
ditch of the field, a pear dropped at his feet out of the next
tree. "Who knows," said he, u but this is a God-send 1 "
So he got a bit of it into his mouth as well as his nose
would let him, and the first swallow he made, off went the
new nose, and the near end kept creeping and curling away,
ding-dong, after the far end.

" Oh, thanks be to Goodness," said he, " and thank you
heartily, my good fairy ! I think my wicked old father-in-
law (that is to be) won't escape me this time."

He had some trifle of money left, and with this he bought
an old woman's cloak and bonnet, and a little basket, and
plucked off some apples and pears, and away with him to
the town outside the palace.

That day after dinner, the butler handed the king three
lovely apples, that he said the fruit-seller in the town
brought up an hour before. The king could hardly per-
suade himself to taste any of them, they looked so nice.
At last he put a piece of one in his mouth, but it was hardly
in his stomach when his nose was down on the carpet, over
to the wall, up on the window stool, out over the frame,

THE GILLA NA GRUAGA DONNA. 73

down the wall, and into the garden. Oh, such a fright !
such cries, and such screeches as came out of the mouths
of every one in the room ; and still the nose went on through
the garden and out on the lawn. The king could not stir
out of his seat on the carpet, "but, as well as he could, he
bade a dozen of doctors be sent for. They came, but they
could do nothing, and messengers were coming and going
every minute to see and bring back word how far the end
was getting. It wasn't growing so fast since it got beyond
the lawn, but still it was getting on, and the doctors order-
ed sentries to be stationed all along for fear of a horse tread-
ing on it, or a cart wheel running over it.

No one went asleep in the palace that night but the
scullery maid and nine of the doctors. The king thought
morning would never come, and when he inquired at last
where the end of his nose was, he was told it was near the
river that lay between his dominions and the next king's,
but only going an inch in a minute.

About sunrise, some one came in to tell that a poor-look-
ing man was asking leave to come in to try to cure the
king. So he was let in, but told that his head would go off
if he done any harm. " Oh, if his Majesty is in a good
state of mind, I'll cure him in spite of the divel himself."
He gave him a small bit of a pear which he took out of a
basket, and it was no sooner down than the nose grew an
inch less in the round, the king was able to raise his head
a little, and the far off sentries shouted that the nose was
gone back half a mile.

" Now, my liege," says the man, " if your conscience is
good, I will bring it within its own bounds the next offer.
Have you any restitution to make to anybody ¥' "K-n-n-
no ! " says he. Then he gave him a bit of fruit, and the
king let a roar. His nose was now thicker than it ever
was, and the sentries cried to those next them, and these
to the others, and those to the sentries in the garden, that
the enlarged end was now just at the very bank of the
river.

"No use in blindfolding the divel in the dark," says the
man. " You'll be lost horse and foot if you don't confess
and restore the goods." " Well, I own that I took the

74 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

bugle of the Gilla na Gruaga Donna from him. Bring that
horn from my bed's head, some of you, and give it to the
doctor/' It was done, another bit of fruit given, and a great
shout was heard, " A mile off o' the nose." " Your Majesty
has not confessed all. Your nose might as well be seven
miles longer for any comfort or rest it will give you." "Well,
I have the magic cloak of the same man." The cloak was
brought and the man buttoned it round his neck ; another
bit, and the end of the nose was in the middle of the lawn.
" Which will your Majesty make full restitution or stay
as you are V " I don't care : I'll keep the purse if the end
of my nose was at Halifax." But away began the nose to
plough again, and more and more the tickling feeling went
on. " Here," says he at last, " is the only thing left," and
he pulled the purse out|of his pocket. " Sarra do him good
with it ! " He threw it to the man, and the remainder of
the pear was given him. Down dropped the additional
handle from the right nose, and went curling and crackling
out of the room, out of the garden, and out of the lawn.
" Seize on that rascal! " said the king; but Gilla, for it was
he, blew a blast on bis bugle, and every one in the room
was rushing to tear the daylights out of the king, their
master. He held out against the match as long as he could,
but the people were all going to dethrone him. So he con-
sented, and if the youth of the brown hair and his princess
were not a good and happy couple, I wonder where are such
to be found.

■»♦»<-

SHAN AN OMADHAN AND HIS MASTER.

A poor woman had three sons. The eldest and second
eldest were cunning clever fellows, but they called the
youngest Shan an Omadhan, because they thought he was
no better than a simpleton. The eldest got tired of staying
at home, and said he'd go look for service. He staid away
a whole year, and then came back one day, dragging one
foot after the other, and a poor wizened face on him, and
he as cross as two sticks. When he was rested and got

SHAN AN OMADHAN AND HIS MASTER. 75

something to eat, he told them how he got service with the
Bodach Liath of Tuaim an Drochaigh [Gray Churl of the
Townlarid of Mischance], and that the agreement was, who-
ever would first say he was sorry for his bargain, should get
an inch wide of the skin of his back, from shoulder to hips,
taken off. If it was the master, he should also pay double
wages ; if it was the servant, he should get no wages at all.
" But the thief," says he, " gave me so little to eat, and kept
me so hard at work, that flesh and blood couldn't stand it;
and when he asked me once, when I was in a passion, if I
was sorry for my bargain, I was mad enough to say I was,
and here I am disabled for life."

Vexed enough were the poor mother and brothers ; and
the second eldest said on the spot he'd go and take service
with the Gray Churl, and punish him by all the annoyance
he'd give him till he'd make him say he was sorry for his
agreement. " Oh, won't I be glad to see the skin coming
off the old villain's back ! " said he. All they could say had
no effect : he started off for the Townland of Mischance,
and in a twelvemonth he was back just as miserable and
helpless as his brother.

All the poor mother could say didn't prevent Shan an
Omadhan from starting to see if he was able to regulate the
Bodach Liath. He agreed with him for a year for twenty
pounds, and the terms were the same.

" Now, Shan," said the Bodach Liath, " if you refuse to
do anything you are able to do, you must lose a month's
wages." " I'm satisfied," said Shan ; " and if you stop me
from doing a thing after telling me to do it, you are to give
me an additional month's wages." " I am satisfied." says
the master. " Or if you blame me for obeying your orders,
you must give the same." " I am satisfied," said the mas-
ter again.

The first day that Shan served he was fed very poorly,
and was worked to the saddleskirts. Next day he came in
just before the dinner was sent up to the parlour. They
were taking the goose off the spit, but well becomes Shan,
he whips a knife off the dresser, and cuts off one side of the
breast, one leg and thigh, and one wing, and fell to. In
came the master, and began to abuse him for his assurance.

7 6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

" Oh, you know, master, you're to feed me, and wherever
the goose goes won't have to be filled again till supper. ■
Are you sorry for our agreement 1 " The master was going
to cry out he was, but he bethought himself in time. " Oh
no, not at all/' said he. "That's well," said Shan.

Next day Jack was to go clamp turf on the bog. They
wern't sorry to have him away from the kitchen at dinner
time. He didn't find his breakfast very heavy on his sto-
mach ; so he said to the mistress, " I think, ma'am, it will
be better for me to get my dinner now, and not lose time
coming home from the bog." " That's true, Shan," said
she. So she brought out a good cake, and a print of but-
ter, and a bottle of milk, thinking he'd take them away to
the bog. But Shan kept his seat, and never drew rein till
bread, butter, and milk went down the red lane. " Now,
mistress," said he, " I'll be earlier at my work to-morrow
if I sleep comfortably on the sheltery side of a clamp [pile
of dry peat] on dry grass, and not be coming here and going
back. So you may as well give me my supper, and be done
with the day's trouble." She gave him that, thinking he'd
take it to the bog ; but he fell to on the spot, and did
not leave a scrap to tell tales on him; and the mistress was
a little astonished.

He called to speak to the master in the haggard, and said
he, " What are servants asked to do in this country after
aten their supper 1 " " Nothing at all, but to go to bed."
" Oh, very well, sir." He went up on the stable-loft,
stripped, and lay down, and some one that saw him told
the master. He came up. " Shan, you anointed sthron-
sliuch, what do you mean?" " To go to sleep, master. The
mistress, God bless her, is after giving me my breakfast,
dinner, and supper, and yourself told me that bed was the
next thing. Do you blame me, sir V "Yes, you rascal,
I do." " Hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence,
if you please, sir." " One divel and thirteen imps, you
tinker ! what for V " Oh, I see, you've forgot your bar-
gain. Are you sorry for if?" " Oh, ya — no, I mean. I'll
give you the money after your nap."

Next morning early, Jack asked how he'd be employed
that day. "You are to be holding the plough in that

SHAN AN OMADHAN AND HIS MASTER. 77

fallow, outside the paddock/' The master went over about
nine o'clock to see what kind of a ploughman was Shan,
and what did he see but the little boy driving the bastes,
and the sock and coulter of the plough skimming along the
sod, and Shan pulling ding-dong again' the horses. " What
are you doing, you conthrary thief ? said the master. " An'
aint I strivin' to hold this divel of a plough, as you told
me ; but that ounkrawn of a boy keeps whipping on the
bastes in spite of all I say; will you speak to him V9 " No,
but I'll speak to you. Didn't you know, you bosthoon, that
when I said ' holding the plough,' I meant reddening the
ground." " Faith an' if you did, I wish you had said so.
Do you blame me for what I have done V The master
caught himself in time, but he was so stomached, he said
nothing. " Go on and redden the ground now, you knave,
as other ploughmen do." "An' are you sorry for our
agreement V9 " Oh, not at all, mauya [forsooth] ! " Shan
ploughed away like a good workman all the rest of the
day.

In a day or two the master bade him go and mind the
cows in afield that had half of it under young corn. " Be
sure, particularly," said he, " to keep Browney from the
wheat ; while she's out of mischief there's no fear of the
rest." About noon, he went to see how Shan was doing
his duty, and what did he find but Jack asleep with his
face to the sod, Browney grazing near a thorn-tree, one end
of a long rope round her horns, and the other end round
the tree, and the rest of the beasts all trampling and eating
the green wheat. Down came the switch on Shan. " Shan,
you vagabone, do you see what the cows are at ] " " And
do you blame me, master 1 " " To be sure, you lazy, slug-
gard, I do 1 " " Hand me out one pound thirteen and
fourpence, master. You said if I only kept Browney out
of mischief, the rest would do no harm. There she is as
harmless as a lamb. Are you sorry for hiring me, master f '
" To be — that is, not at all. I'll give you your money
when you go to dinner. JSTow, understand me ; don't let a
cow go out of the field nor into the wheat the rest of the
day." " Never fear, master ! " and neither did he. But
the bodach would rather than a great deal he had not
hired him.

78 THE FTRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

The next day three heifers were missing, and the mas-
ter bade Jack go in search of them. " Where will I look
for them 1 " said Shan. " Oh, every place likely and un-
likely for them all to be in." The bodach was getting
very exact in his words. When he was coming into the
bawn at dinner-time, what work did he find Jack at but
pulling armfulls of the thatch off the roof, and peeping into
the holes he was making 1 " What are you doing there,
you rascal T " Sure, I'm looking for the heifers, poor
things !" " What would bring them there V " I don't
think anything could bring them in it ; but I looked first
into the likely places, that is, the cow-houses, and the pas-
tures, and the fields next 'em, and now I'm looking in the
unlikeliest place I can think of. Maybe it's not pleasing
to you it is." " And to be sure it isn't pleasing to me,
you aggravating googein [goosecap] !" " Please sir, hand
me one pound thirteen and four pence before you sit down
to your dinner. I'm afraid it's sorrow that's on you for
hiring me at all." "May the div — oh no; I'm not sorry.
Will you begin if you please, and put in the thatch again,
just as if you were doing it for your mother's cabin V "Oh,
faith I will, sir, with a heart and a half ;" and by the time
the farmer came out from his dinner, Shan had the roof
better than it was before, for he made the boy give him new
straw.

Says the master when he came out, " Go, Shan, and
look for the heifers, and bring them home." " And where
will I look for 'em ¥' " Go and search for them as if they
were your own." The heifers were all in. the paddock
before sunset.

Next morning, says the bodach, " Jack, the path across
the bog to the pasture is very bad ; the sheep does be
sinking in it every step ; go and make it a good path with
the sheep's feet." About an hour after he came to the
edge of the bog, and what did he find Shan at but sharpen-
ing a carving knife, and the sheep standing or grazing round.
" Is this the way you are mending the path, Shan I" said
he. " Everything must have a beginning, master," said
Shan, " and a thing well begun is half done. I am sharpen-
ing the knife, and 111 have the feet off every sheep in the

SHAN AN OMADHAN AND HIS MASTEE. /9

flock while you'd be blessing yourself." "Feet off my
sheep, you anointed rogue ! and what would you be taking
their feet off for '? " " An sure to mend the path as you
told me. Says you, ' Shan, dean staidhear, &c., make a
path with the feet of the sheep/ " " Oh, you fool, I meant
make good the path for the sheep's feet." " It's a pity you
did'nt say so, master. Hand me out one pound thirteen
and fourpence if you don't like me to finish my job." "Divel
do you good with your one pound thirteen and fourpence !"
" It's better pray than curse, master. Maybe you're sorry

for your bargain ]" " And to be sure I am not yet,

any way."

The next night the bodach was going to a wedding ; and
says he to Jack, before he set out : a I'll leave at midnight,
and I wish you to come and be with me home, for fear I
might be overtaken with the drink. If you're there before,
you may throw a sheep's eye at me, and I'll be sure to see
that they'll give you something for yourself."

About eleven o'clock, while the bodach was in great
spirits, he felt something clammy hit him on the cheek.
It fell beside his tumbler, and what was it but the eye of
a sheep, and a very ugly looking article it was. Well, he
couldnt imagine who threw it at him, or why it was thrown
at him. After a little he got a blow on the other cheek,
and still it was by another sheep's eye. Well, he was very
vexed, but he thought better to say nothing. In two mi-
nutes more, when he was opening his mouth to take a sup,
another sheep's eye was slapped into it. He sputtered it
out, and cried, " Man o' the house, isn't it a great shame
for you to have any one in the room that would do such a
nasty thing V9 " Master," says Shan, " don't blame the
honest man. Sure it's only myself that was thro win them
sheep's eyes at you, to remind you I was here, and that I
wanted to drink the bride and bridegroom's health. You
know yourself bade me." " I know that you are a great
rascal; and where did you get the eyes'?" "An' where
would I get 'em but in the heads of your own sheep 1 Would
you have me meddle with the bastes of any neighbour, who
might put me in the Stone Jug [gaol] for it?" " Mo chuma
[my sorrow] that ever I had the bad luck to meet with you."

8o THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

" You're all witness," said Jack, "that my master says he
is sorry for having met with me. My time is up. Mas-
ter, hand me over double wages, and come into the next
room, and lay yourself out like a man that has some decency
in him, till I take a strip of skin an inch broad from your
shoulder to your hip." Every one shouted out against that ;
but, says Shan, " You didn't hinder him when he took the
same strips from the backs of my two brothers, and sent
them home in that state, and penniless, to their poor
mother.'' When the company heard the rights of the
business, they wrere only too eager to see the job done. The
bodach bawled and roared, but there was no help at hand.
He was stripped to his hips, and laid on the floor in the
next room, and Jack had the carving knife in his hand
ready to begin. " Now, you cruel old villian," said he,
giving the knife a couple of scrapes along the floor, " I'll
make you an offer. Give me, along with my double wages,
two hundred pounds to support my poor brothers, and I'll
do without the strap." " No ! " said he, " I'd let you skin
me from head to foot first." " Here goes then," said Shan
with a grin, but the first little scar he gave, bodach roared
out, " Stop your hand \ I'll give the money."

"Now, neighbours," said Shan, "you mustn't think worse
of me than I deserve. I wouldn't have the heart to take
an eye out of a rat itself ; I got half a dozen of them from
the butcher, and only used three of them."

So all came again into the other room, and Shan was
made sit down, and everybody drank his health, and he
drank everybody's health at one offer. And six stout fel-
lows saw himself and the bodach home, and waited in the
parlour while he went up and brought dowm the two hundred
guineas, and double wages for Shan himself. "When he got
home, he brought the summer along with him to the poor
mother and the disabled brothers ; and he was no more
Shan an Omadhan in the people's mouths, but Shan
a'Ruisgeach, " Jack the Skinner."

[ Si ]

THE PEINCESS IN THE CAT-SKINS.

There was once a queen that was left a widow with one
daughter, who was as good and handsome as any girl could
be. But her mother wasn't satisfied to remain without a
husband ; so she married again, and a very bad choice she
made. Her second husband treated her very badly ; and
she died soon after. Well, would you ever think of the
widower taking it into his head to marry the young prin-
cess at the end of a year ] She was as shocked as she could
be when he made her the offer, and burst out a crying. "I
took you too sudden," said he. " Sleep on it, and you can
give me an answer to-morrow. ';

She was in great trouble all the rest of the day, and when
the evening came she went out into the paddock, where a
beautiful filly she used to ride was grazing. " Oh my poor
beast ! " said she, " I'm sure if you knew my trouble you'd
pity me." " I do know your trouble, and I pity you, and
I'll help you too," says the filly. " I'm the fairy that watch-
ed over you from the time you were born, and I am here
near you since your mother married the second time. Your
stepfather is an enchanter, but he'll find me too strong for
him. Don't seem shocked when he'll ask your consent to-
morrow, but say you must have first a dress of silk and
silver thread that will fit into a walnut shell. He'll pro-
mise, and will be able to get it made too, but I'll bother his
spinner and his weaver long enough before he'll get it wove,
and his seamstress after that, before it's sewed."

The princess done as she was bid, and the enchanter
was in great joy ; but he was kept in great trouble and
anger for a full half year before the dress was ready to go
on the princess. At last it was fitted, and he asked her
was she ready to be his wife. " I'll tell you to-morrow,"
said she. So she went to consult her filly in the paddock.

Well, the next day he put the question to her again, and
she said that she couldn't think of marrying any one till
she had another dress of silk and gold thread that would
fit in a walnut shell. " I wish you had mentioned itself
and the silver dress together. Both could have been done
at the same time. No matter : I'll get it done." What-

6

82 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

ever trouble the spinner and the weaver and the seam-
stress had with the other dress, they had twice it with
this ; but at last it was tried on, and fitted like a glove.

"Well now," says Fear Dhorrach, "I hope your'e satisfied,
and won't put off the wedding again." "Oh, you must
forgive me," said she, " for my vanity." She was talking
to the fiily the evening before. "I can't do without a dress
of silk thread as thick as it can be with diamonds and pearls
no larger than the head of a minnikin pin. Three is a
lucky number, you know." " Well, I wish you had men-
tioned this at first, and the three could be making together.
ISTow this is the very last thing you'll ask, I expect." " Oh,
I'll never ask another, you may depend, till I'm married."
She didn't say till we're married. The dress came home at
last. Well, the same evening she found on her bed another
made from bottom to top of cat- skins, and this she put on.
She put her three walnut-shells in her pocket, and then
stole out to the stable, where she found her filly with a
bridle in her mouth, and the nicest side-saddle ever you
saw on her back. Away they went, and when the light
first appeared in the sky they were a hundred miles away.

They stopped at the edge of a wood, and the princess
was very glad to rest herself on a bunch of dry grass at the
foot of a tree. She wasn't a minute there when she fell
asleep ; and soundly she did sleep, till she was woke up by
the blowing of bugles and the yelping of beagles. She
jumped up in a fright. There was no filly near her, but
half a hundred spotted hounds were within forty perches of
her, yelling out of them like vengeance. I needn't tell you
she was frightened. She had hardly power to put one foot
past the other, and she'd be soon tore into giblets by the
dogs on account of her dress, but a fine young hunter leaped
over their heads, and they all fell back when he shook his
whip and shouted at them. So he came to the princess,
and there she was as wild-looking as you please, with her
cat-skins hanging round her, and her face and hands and
arms as brown as a berry, from a wash she put on herself
before she left home. Wrell that didn't hinder her features
from being handsome, and the prince was astonished at her
beauty and her colour and her dress, when he found she

THE PRINCESS IN THE CAT-SKINS. 83

was a stranger, and alone in the world. He got off his
horse, and walked side by side with her to his palace, for
he was the young king of that country.

He sent for his housekeeper when he came to the hall-
door, and bid her employ the young girl about whatever
she was fit for, and then set off to follow the hounds again.
Well, there was great tittering in the servants' hall among
the maids at her colour and her dress, and the ganders of
footmen would like to be joking with her, but she made
no freedom with one or the other, and when the butler
thought to give her a kiss, she gave him a light slap on the
jaw that wouldn't kill a fly, but he felt as if a toothache was
at him for eight and forty-hours. By my word, the other
buckeens did not give her an excuse to raise her hand to
them. Well, she was so silent and kept herself to herself
so much, that she was no favourite, and they gave her
nothing better to do than help the scullery maid, and at
night she had to put up with a little box of a place under
the stairs for a bed-room.

The next day, when the prince returned from hunting, he
sent word to the housekeeper by the whipper-in to let the
new servant bring him up a basin and towel till he'd wash
before dinner. "Oh, ho !" says the cook, " there's an honour
for Cat-skin. I'm here for forty years and never was asked
to do such a thing ; how grand we are ! purshuin to all
impedent people !" The princess didn't mind their jibes
and their jeers. She took up the things, and the prince
delayed her ever so long with remarks and questions, striv-
ing to get out of her what rank of life she was born in.
As little as she said he guessed her to be a lady. I suppose
it is as hard for a lady or gentleman to pass for a vulgarian,
as for one of us to act like one of the quality. Well to be
sure ! all the cold and scornful noses that were in the big
kitchen before her ; and it was, " Cat-skin, will you hand
me this 1 Cat-skin, will you grease my shoes 1 Cat-skin,
will you draw a jug of beer for me V And she done every-
thing she was asked without a word or a sour look.

Next night the prince was at a ball about three miles
away, and the princess got leave from the housekeeper to go
early to bed. Well, she couldn't get herself to lie down :

84 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

slie was in a fever like; she threw off her outside dress, and
she stepped out into the lawn to get a little fresh air. There
what did she behold but her dear filly under a tree. She
ran over, and threw her arms round her neck, and kissed
her face, and began to cry. " No time for crying ! " says
the filly. " Take out the first walnut shell you got." She
did so, and opened it. " Hold what's inside over your head,"
said the other, and in a moment the silk and silver dress
wrapped her round as if a dozen manty -makers were after
spending an hour about it. " Get on that stump/' says the
filly, " and jump into the side-saddle." She did so, and in
a few minutes they were at the hall door of the castle where
the ball was. There she sprung from her saddle, and walked
into the hall. Lights were in the hall and everywhere,
and nothing could equal the glitter of the princess's robes
and the accoutrements of her steed. It was like the curling
of a stream in the sun.

You may believe that the quality were taken by surprise,
when the princess wralked in among them as if they wTere
the lords and ladies in her father's court. The young king
came forward as he saw the rest were a little cowed, and
bade her good evening and welcome ; and they talked what-
ever way kings and queens and princesses do, and he made
her sit on Ins owTn seat of honour, and took a stool or a
chair near her, and if he wasn't delighted and surprised, her
features were so like the scullery maid's, leave it till again.

They had a fine supper and a dance, and the prince and
she danced, and every minute his love for her was increas-
ing, but at last she said she should go. Every one was
sorry, and the prince more than anyone, and he came with
her to the hall, and asked might he see her safe home. But
she showed him her filly and excused herself. Said he,
" IT1 have my brown horse brought, and myself and my
servants will attend you." " Hand me up on my filly,"
says she, " first of all," and, be the laws, I don't know how
princes put princesses on horseback. Maybe one of the
servants stoops his back, and the prince goes on one knee,
and she steps first on his knee and then on the servant's
back, and then sits in the saddle. Anyhow she was safe up,
and she took the prince's hand, and bid him good night, and

THE PRINCESS TN THE CAT-SKINS. 8$

the filly and herself were away like a flash of lightning in
the dark night.

Well, everything appeared dismal enough when he went
back to where a hundred tongues were going hard and fast
about the lady in the dazzling dress.

Next morning he bid his footman ask the girl in the
cat-skin to bring him hot water and a towel for him to shave.
She came in as modest and backward as you please ; but
whenever the prince got a peep at her face, there were the
beautiful eyes and nose and mouth of the lady in the glit-
tering dress, but all as brown as a bit of bogwood. He
thought to get a little talk out of her, but dickens a word
would come out of her mouth but yes or no. And when
he asked her was she of high birth, she turned off the dis-
course and would' nt say one thing or the other ; and when
he asked would she like to put on nice clothes and be about
his mother, she refused just as if he asked her to drown
herself. So he found he could make nothing of her, and let
her go down stairs.

There was another great ball in a week's time, and the
very same thing took place again. There was the princess,
and the dress she had on was of silk and gold thread, and
the darlintest little gold crown in the world over her purty
curling hair. If the prince was in love before, he was up
to his eyes in it this time ; but while they were going on
with the nicest sweet talk, says she, " I'm afraid, prince,
that you are in the habit of talking lovingly to every girl
you meet." Well, he was very eager to prove he was not.
" Then," said she, " a little bird belied you as I was coming
through the wood. He said that you weren't above talking
soft even to a young servant girl with her skin as brown
as a berry, and her dress no better than cat-skin.;' " I de-
clare to you, princess," said he, " there is such a girl at
home, and if her skin was as white as yours, and her dress
the same, no eye could see a bit of differ between you."
" Oh, thankee, prince !" says she, lt for the compliment ; it's
time for me to be going." Well, he thought to mollify her,
but she curled her upper lip and cocked her nose, and
wasn't long till she left, the way she did before. While
she was getting on her filly,, he almost went down on his

86 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

knees to her to make it up. So at last she smiled, and
said, " If I can make up my mind to forgive you, I'll come
to the next ball without invitation." So she was away,
and when they came under the tree in the lawn she took
the upper hem of her dress in her fingers and it came off
like a glove, and she made her way in at the back door,
and into her crib at the stair-foot.

The prince slept little that night, and in the morning he
sent his footman to ask the girl in the cat-skins to bring up
a needle and thread to sew a button on his shirt-sleeve.
lie watched her ringers, and saw they were small and of a
lovely shape ; and when one of them touched his w7rist, it
felt as soft and delicate as silk. All he could say got no-
thing out of her only, " It wasn't a nice thing for a prince
to speak in that way to a girl of low degree, and he boast-
ing of it after to princesses and great ladies." Well, how
he did begin to deny anything so ungenteel, but the button
was sewed, and she skipped away down stairs.

The third night came, and she shook the dress of silk
and pearls and diamonds over her, and the nicest crown of
the same on her head. As grand and beautiful as she was
before, she was twice as grand now ; and the lords and
ladies hardly dared to speak above their breaths, and the
prince thought he was in heaven. He asked her at last
would she be his queen, and not keep him in misery any
longer, and she said she would, if she was sure he wouldn't
ask Miss Cat-skin the same question next day. Oh, how
he spoke, and how he promised ! He asked leave to see
her safe home, but she wouldn't agree. " But don't be
downcast," said she, " you will see me again sooner than
you think ; and if you know me when you meet me next,
we'll part no more." Just as she was sitting in her saddle,
and the prince was holding her hand, he slipped a dawny
limber ring of gold on one finger. It was so small and so
nice to the touch he thought she wouldn't feel it. " And
now, my princess," says he to himself, " I think I'll know
you when I meet you."

Next morning he sent again for the scullery girl, and she
came and made a curtchy. il What does your majesty want
me to do 1 " said she. " Only to advise me which of these

THE PRINCESS IN THE CAT-SKINS. 87

two suits of clothes would look best on me; I'm going to be
married. " " Ah, how could the likes of me be able to ad-
vise you 1 Is the rich dressed lady, that I heard the foot-
men talking about, to be your queen 1 " " Yourself is as
likely to be my wife as that young lady." " Then who is
it ? " " Yourself, I tell you." " Myself ! How can your
majesty joke that way on a poor girl 1 They say you're
promised to the lady of the three rich dresses." " I'm pro-
mised to no one but yourself. I asked you twice already
to be my queen ; I ask you now the third time." " Yes,
and maybe after all, you'll marry the lady of the dresses."
" You promised you'd have me if I knew you the next time
we'd meet. This is the next time. If I don't know you, I
know my ring on your fourth ringer." She looked, and
there it was sure enough. Maybe she didn't blush. " Will
your majesty step into the next room for a minute," said
she, " and leave me by myself ? " He did so, and when she
opened the door for him again, there she was with the brown
stain off her face and hands, and her dazzling dress of silk
and jewels on her. Wasn't he the happy prince, and she
the happy princess 1 And weren't the noisy servants lewd
of themselves when they saw poor Cat-skin in her royal
dress saying the words before the priest 1 They didn't put
off their marriage, and there was the fairy now in the ap-
pearance of a beautiful woman ; and if I was to tell you
about the happy life they led, I'd only be tiring you.

THE WELL AT THE WORLD'S END.

Once there was a king that had three sons, and he was so
sick that no one thought he'd ever recover. They went to
consult a wise old hermit that lived in a wood near, and he
said that nothing would cure the king but a draught from the
World's-£nd water. So the eldest son thought to himself,
— " I'll set out to bring this drink, and then I'll be sure to
get all the kingdom from my father when he's about to die."
So he got leave from his father and set out. He went first
to the hermit, and asked him whereabouts was the " End

00 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND,

of the world," and the hermit gave him directions how he'd
go to it. He was to cross seven seas, and seven lakes, and
seven rivers, and seven mountains, and seven hills, and
seven commons, and then he'd see before him a castle of
brass, and all he knew farther was that the Well of the
World' s-End water was in the garden of that castle.

So the prince set out, and one day he sat down by the
way side to eat some bread and cold meat. Up came a
poor, ragged, withered old woman, and asked him to give
her a bit to keep the life in her. " Go away, you old hag,
out of that ! " said he, "I have nothing for you." "Well,
well," said she ; " God help the poor ! But would your
majesty tell a poor body where you're going 1 " " What's
that to you, you old witch 1 " said he again ; " go about
your business, and don't be bothering me ! " " Well,
prince," said she, " your birth is better than your manners
anyhow. Still, for sake of the king and queen that owns
you, I'll give you an advice. Never blow your bugle till
you first draw your sword, and when you're on duty resist
temptation." " Thank you for nothing," said he. " I've
got enough of you." So she went away, muttering.

Well, when he passed the remaining hills and com-
mons and lakes and rivers, he saw far off the castle of
brass, and in good time he arrived at it. There was a bugle
horn hanging by the door, and, without minding the old
woman's advice, he put it to his mouth and blew it with-
out thinking of his sword. Open flew the door, and out
on him rushed two lions roaring like thunder. He thought
to pull out his sword, but they kept on biting and scratch-
ing and tearing him till he thought he was done for. " Go
then," says one of them. "You are a bad prince, but you
are on a good business, and we'll give you your life."
Well, he stumbled in, and there he was in a long hall, and
at each side were standing fifty knights in armour, holding
up their spears, and all dead asleep. His heart beat, but he
passed on, and in the next hall there was a beautiful prin-
cess with a crown on her head, and she sitting on a throne.
He approached her, and made all sorts of nice speeches to
her, but she reminded him of the business he was on, and
told him there was no time to be lost. "After passing

THE WELL AT THE WORLD'S END. 89

through the next hall/' said she, " you will be in the garden
where the well of the World's-End water springs. If you
are not out of the castle with your bottle full before the
clock strikes twelve, there's a heavy doom hanging over
you."

In the next hall there was a table laid out with the
finest food and drink the prince ever saw, and he was so
tired with walking, and so spent in his struggle with the
lions, that he fell to. The clock still wanted a quarter ;
he'd have time enough. "When it was two minutes before
the hour he went into the garden, and he was so hot, and
it was so delightful in the shade, for the well was under a
tree, that he sat down on a garden seat, and felt that it
wrould be as much as his life was worth to be obliged to
leave it. While he was half dozing, the clock began to
strike. Oh, murder ! he began to fill the bottle as fast as
he could, but it was on the seventh stroke before he had
it filled. Seven, eight, nine, ten, — he was in the dining
room, and in the lady's room. It was eleven when he was
running into the knight's hall, but he was only in the mid-
dle of it when bang went twelve, and the knights struck
the ends of their spears on the ground, and came round him
in a ring. What could his single sword do against so many.
He hadn't even power to draw it. A rough fellow wTith a
bush of red hair on his head came in, and tied him hand
and foot, and threw him into a dungeon.

Well, his place was empty at home for half a year, and
then his next brother set out ; and to make a long story
short, he behaved the same way and got the same treatment.
Last of all the youngest set off, and very differently he
behaved to the poor old woman, and she gave him when
they were parting two cakes, and told him what to do with
them.

When he reached the castle he drew the sword, and then
blew the bugle horn. Open flew the doors, and out rushed
the lions. But he held out a cake to each beast, and down
they sat like two lambs to eat them. He went through the
first hall, and went on one knee before the lady in the
second. There was pleasure on her face at the sight of him,
but she told him there was no delay to be made. So he

<?0 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

passed through the next room without taking bit or sup,
though he felt as hungry and thirsty as he could be. The
greatest temptation was on him when he went into the
garden — he was so hot and faint — to sit on the seat and en-
joy the cool, but he didn't give way. He filled his bottle
and returned through the dining hall without sitting down
to refresh himself. He would have stopped to speak to the
lady, but she warned him away, and he had no temptation
to stop between the two rows of the men in the iron armour.
He passed the lions who were still eating their cakes, and
when he closed the door after him he blew the bugle with
all his force. The sound came out like thunder where the
rocks are on every side, and before it ceased, down came
the castle as if the sky was falling. The stones never sunk
into the earth, they vanished after seeming to fall a little,
though the noise they made was frightful. When all was
cleared, there was neither lions, nor armed men, nor loaded
tables to be seen. The princess was sitting on a grassy
ridge, and the two brothers lying unbound in a furrow.

There was great joy among the four, for the princess was
released from enchantment as wTell as the brothers from their
chains. They set out for the palace, but they were met on
the road by a coach and horses, which the princess said were
sent by a powerful friend she had. The elder brothers saw
that either of them had little chance to be her husband : so at
times they plotted together, and when they were near home,
at the very spot where the old woman met with them all,
they fell on their youngest brother, tied him neck and heels,
and left him inside of the wood to die of pain and hunger.
The princess gave one cry when she saw her prince seized,
but never opened her mouth after till they reached the
palace. The brothers then made her swear that she would
never reveal who got the water, or what became of the
youngest prince, and she did so without the smallest ob-
jection.

Well, there was great joy in the palace when the princes
and the beautiful lady arrived, and when they told that they
returned with the water. They said they knew nothing
of their youngest brother, and that made the king sad.
However, the eldest son called for a cup of gold, and pour-

THE WELL AT THE WORLD S END. 9 I

ed in some of the water, and handed it to his father. He
drank some of it, but laid dow7n the cup in a moment. He
said he was seized with, a colic, and cried out with the
pain. "Let me give the drink," said the second eldest,
" you know it was I that got it." He took up the cup
and handed it to the king; but as bad as he was before, he
was twice worse now ; and how the brothers looked at one
another ! They begged the princess to hand the cup next,
but she didn't seem to hear them. Well, all were at their
wits' end, when in walked a tallbeggarwoman and her son,
and both in rags. " Will your majesty allow this young
man to hand you the cup V* " Oh, if it is of any use, let
him do so ; but if not, he'll be torn between wild horses."
" Oh, very well." The young man went forward, and pre-
sented the cup, but the king turned all manner of colours,
and twisted his face into a dozen of forms before he'd let it
to his lips again. The moment he swallowed one sup his
late pains left him, and his old sickness was gone, and he
stood up in perfect health. He was about opening his
mouth to thank the boy and his mother, but she touched
him with a rod she had in her hands, and his rags were
gone, and there was the youngest prince in his own dress,
and as handsome as the May !

A fine looking woman was where the beggar stood a
minute since, and she wasn't long about explaining the
whole wickedness of the brothers. They looked for all the
world like two dogs that had lost their tails, and seemed to
wish to sink into the ground. They were banished the
same day from the court, and the next clay came on the mar-
riage of the youngest son with the enchanted lady.

THE POOR GIRL THAT BECAME A QUEEN.

A cottier-man and his daughter lived near a king's palace,
and they were so poor that the girl advised her father one
day to go to the king, and ask him for three or four acres
of land, so that they could keep body and soul together.
" Come along with me," said he, " and I will." So when

92 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

the king was going out to have a walk after his breakfast,
they put themselves in his way, and the father made the
request. The king granted it : I believe he was pleased
with the smoothness of the young girl's face, and the sense
he saw in it.

Well, they worked away on the little farm as happy as
you please, till one day, when they dug up a golden mortar
from under the sod (them is things used by pottecaries
to grind their drugs in). " Oh, my ! " says the father,
" this is the king's property ; I'll take it to him ; he well
deserves it." " Don't, father," says the girl, " he'll ask for
the crushing stick along with it." " Crushing stick indeed!
he'll be too glad of the bowl." So he wouldn't be persuaded,
and be this and be that he was soon sorry enough for it.
The king, instead of thanking him for the mortar, asked for
the pounder, and when it wasn't to the fore, " Take that
man," says he to his guards, " and put him in prison, and
keep him on bread and water till he finds the pounding
stick."

Well, two days after, the jailer came into the king's pre-
sence, and says he, " Maybe your majesty would order the
new premer to some other place, for he lets no one rest or
sleep that's near him, crying out, " Oh, if I'd been said and
led by my daughter! Oh, if I'd been said and led by my
daughter !" " Send him in to me," says the king. Well,
when he came, says the king "What are you moithering
every one about you for, with your daughter and her ad-
vice ? " " An' sure, your majesty, if I'd taken it I wouldn't
be now in preson. Says I, when I dug up the gold mortar,
* I'll take this to the king, God bless him ! ' ' Don't,
father,' says she, * he'll be wanten the poundher.' " " Go
home," says the king, " and send her to the palace."

Well, she made herself as dasent as she could, and pre-
sented herself, and the king was greatly pleased with her
comely face and her good sense, and after conversing with
her for some time, says he, " I'll give you a riddle. Come
here to-morrow neither with your clothes nor without them,
neither riding in car nor coach, nor on a beast's back, nor
carried in any way, nor walking on your feet. If you do
this, I'll tell you more of my mind."

THE POOR GIRL THAT BECAME A QUEEN. 93

Well, the next day the king was sitting on his door-step,
and his lords were standing on each side waiting to see if
the girl would find out the riddle, and by my word they
were soon at their ease. They heard a clatter outside the
bawn, and some one crying out hub! and hoe! and in came
an ass very ill at his ease, for there was a fisherman's net
tied to his tail, and the same net was wrapt round my brave
girl, who had nothing on her above her waist, and she was
neither carried, nor riding, nor walking, but standing on
her two big toes in the net, and guiding and whipping the
poor assol, that was dragging her along very much against
his will.

" My brave wise girl that you were ! " says the king. " If
you wont be my queen I'll have no other ;" and married
they were off-hand, and lived seven years together in the
greatest comfort.

One day some countrymen came to the palace with loads
of firewood. One man had a horse, and a mare, and a foal,
and another had two bullocks. The foal was gambolling
about, and got m between the bullocks, and when they were
leaving, the owner of the beasts would not let the little
fellow go back to his mother and father ; he said the bul-
locks owned him. The other man complained to the king,
but whether he was thinking of something else, or wished
to put a greater punishment on the rogue of a bullock-owner
next day, he ordered that the foal should be left where he
was.

Well, the poor man was stomached enough you may de-
pend, and didn't know what to do till he bethought of the
queen and her great wit, and her being a cottier-man's
daughter. So he asked to see her, and this is the way he
acted according to her advice.

^ext day the king was passing out on some business,
and what should he see in the middle of the road but the
owner of the foal hard and fast at work, casting a net in
the dust, drawing it in, opening it out, lifting his handfuls
of nothing out of it, and pitching them into his sack. "What
nonsense is this you're at V says the king. "You'll take
no fish on the yellow high road." "I will, your Majesty,
as many as you'll find foals between a pair of bullocks."

94 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

* Who told you to say and do this 1" said the king. "My
own brain/' said the man. " I'll let yon see the conthmry"
said the king. Put this fellow in prison, and let him nei-
ther eat, drink, nor sleep till he confesses who was his ad-
viser/'

Well, the poor man held out for three days, till at last he
didn't know whether he was dead or alive, and then it came
out that he was speaking to the Queen, and when the king
was told of it, he sent for her, and this is what he said : —
"I ought to've known that an ignorant country girl could
never demean herself in a high station. You have let your-
self down so low by your coshering and cuggering with that
woodman, that you must go back to your father/' Well,
she cried and sobbed, but said he, "It's no use, we must
part. However, you were a good wife, and you may take
with you whatever treasures are in the palace that you value
most." " I must submit/' says she, " but let us take one
meal together, and drink one parting drink before you send
me away." " With all my heart," says he. They ate and
they drank, and the king didn't rightly remember how she
parted from him. Twenty-four hours after, he opened his
eyes, and saw nothing round him but the poor walls and
furniture of a cabin.

Loudly he called for his servants, but there was no
answer, and very surprised and frightened he was. He
called louder, and in came his wife — more beautiful than
ever she appeared— and threw her arms round his neck.
" Oh, have I you still, my darling! " said he ; "but where
are wel" " In the cabin I was born in/' said she. " You
gave me leave to bring away what I valued most. I put a
sleepy posset in your wine, and got you nicely covered up
in a quilt, and carried here."

"Ah, what a headstrong fool I was,"said he. "But I hope
I'll live long enough to make you forget that one act."
I'll let you all fancy how rejoiced the people in the palace
were when they saw their king and queen coming back arm
and arm. If ourselves lived under such a man and woman,
it isn't aten dry potatoes we'd be, one and twenty times a
week for novelty.

[ 95 ]

THE GRATEFUL BEASTS.

There was once a young man, and it happened that he had
a guinea in his pocket, and was going to some fair or pat-
tern or another, and while he was on the way, he saw some
little hoys scourging a poor mouse they were after catching.
" Come, gorsoons," says he, " don't be at that cruel work ;
here's sixpence for you to buy gingerbread and let him go."
They only wanted the wind of the word, and off jumped
the mouse. He didn't go much farther, when he overtook
another parcel of young geochachs, and they tormenting the
life out of a poor weasel. Well, he bought him off for a
shilling, and went on. The third creature he rescued from
a crowd of grown up young rascals was an ass, and he had
to give a whole half crown to get him off.

" Now," says poor Neddy, " you may as well take me
with you. Til be of some use carrying you when you're
tired." " With all my heart," says Jack. The day was
very hot, and the boy sat under a tree to enjoy the cool.
As sure as he did he fell asleep without intending it, but
he was soon woke up by a wicked looking bodach and his
two servants. i( How dare you let your ass go trespass on
my inch" [river meadow] says he, " and do such mischief."
"I had no notion he'd do anything of the kind : I dropped
asleep by accidence." " Oh be this an' be that ! I'll accidence
you. Bring out that chest," says he to one of his gillas ;
and while you'd be sayin' thrapsticks they had the poor boy
lyin' on the broad of his back in it, and a strong hempen
rope tied round it, and himself an' itself flung into the river.

Well, they went away to their business, and poor Neddy
stayed roarin' an' bawlin' on the bank, till who should come
up but the weasel and the mouse, and they axed him what
ailed him. " An' isn't the kind boy that rescued me from
them scoggins that were tormenting me just now, fastened
up in a chest and dhrivin down that terrible river V* " Oh,
says the weasel, "he must be the same boy that rescued
the mouse and myself. Had he a brown piece on the elbow
of his coat ? " " The very same." " Come then," says the
weasel, " and let us overtake him, and get him out." " By
all means," says the others. So the weasel got on the ass's

96 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

back, and the mouse in his ear, and away with them. They
hadn't the trouble of going far, when they see the chest
which was stopped among the rushes at the edge of a little
island. Over they went, and the weasel and the mouse
gnawed the rope till they had the led off, and their master
out on the bank. Well, they were all very glad, and were
conversing together, when what should the weasel spy but
a beautiful egg with the loveliest colours on the shell lying
down in the shallow water ? He wasn't long till he had it
up, and Jack was turning it round and round, and ad-
miring it. " Oh, musha, my good friends," says he, " I
wish it was in my power to show my gratitude to you, and
that I had a fine castle and estate where we could live with
fall and plenty ! " The words were hardly out of his mouth
when the beasts and himself found themselves standing
on the steps of a castle, and the finest lawn before it that
ever you saw.

There was no one inside nor outside to dispute possession
with them, and there they lived as happy as kings, They
found money enough inside in a cupboard, and the house
had the finest furniture in every room, and it was an easy
matter to hire servants and labourers.

Jack was standing at his gate one day, as three merchants
were passing by with their goods packed on the backs of
horses and mules. " Death alive ! " says they, what's this
for? There was neither castle, nor lawn, nor three here the
last time we went by."

u True for you ! " says Jack. • But you shant be the worse
for it. Take your beasts into the bawn behind the house,
and give 'em a good feed, and if you're not in a hurry, stay
and take a bit of dinner with myself." They wished for no
better, and after dinner the innocent slob of a Jack let
himself be overtaken, and showed them his painted egg,
and told 'em every thing that happened him. As sure as
the hearth money, one of 'em puts a powder in Jack's next
tumbler, and when he woke it was in the island he found
himself, with his patched coat on him, and his three friends
sitting on their currabingoes near him, and looking very
down in the mouth.

"Ah, master !;; says the weasel, " you'll never be wise

THE GRATEFUL BEASTS. 97

enough for the thricky people that's in the world. Where
did them thieves say they lived, and what's the name that's
on ?emf" Jack scratched his head, and after a little re-
collected the town. "Come, Neddy," says the weasel, "let
us be jogging." So he got on his back, and the mouse in
his ear, and the ass swum the river, and nothing is said of
their travels till they came to the house of the head rogue.
The mouse went in, and the ass and the weasel sheltered
themselves in a copse outside. He soon came back to
them. "Well, what news'?" " Dull news enough. He
has the egg in a low press in his bed-room, and a pair of
cats with fiery eyes watching it night and day, and they
chained to the press, and the room door double locked."
"Let us go back !" says the ass; we can't do nothing."
" Wait," says the weasel."

When sleep time came, says the weasel to the mouse, "Go
in at the key hole, and get behind the rogue's head, an'
stay two or three hours sucking his hair." " What good
in that 1 " says the ass. " Wait, an' you'll know," says the
weasel. Next morning the merchant was quite mad to
find the way his hair was in. "But I'll disappoint you to-
night, you thief of a mouse," says he. So he unchained
the cats next night, and bid them sit by his bed-side and
watch.

Just as he was dropping asleep, the weasel and mouse
were outside the door, and gnawing away till they had a
hole scooped out at the bottom. In went the mouse, and
it was'nt long till he had the egg outside. They were soon
on the road again ; the mouse in the ass's ear, the weasel
on his back, and the egg in the weasel's mouth. When
they came to the river, and were swimming across, the ass
began to bray. " Hee haw, hee haw ! " says he, " is there
the likes of me in the world V I'm carrying the mouse, and
the weasel, and the great enchanted egg, that can do any-
thing. Why don't yous praise me 1 " But the mouse was
asleep, and the weasel was afraid of opening his mouth.
" I'll shake yous off, you ungrateful pack if you don't," says
the ass again ; and the poor weasel, forgetting himself, cried
out, " Oh, don't ! " and down went the e'gg in the deepest
pool of the river. " Now you done it," says the weasel,

98 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

and you may be sure the ass looked very lewd of himself.
" Oh, what are we to do now, at all, at alii " says he.
" Never despair," says the weasel. He looked down into
the deep water and cried, " Hear, all you frogs and fish !
There is a great army coming to take yous out, and eat
yous red raw ; look sharp ! " " Oh, and what can we do?'
says they, coming up to the top. " Gather up all the stones,
and hand them to us, and we'll make a big wall on the
bank to defend you." They began to work like little divels
in a mud wall, and were hard and fast reaching up the peb-
bles they found on the bottom. At last a big frog came up
with the egg in his mouth, and when the weasel had hold
of it, he got up in a tree, and cried out, " That will do.
The army is frightened and running away." So the poor
things were greatly relieved.

You may be sure that Jack was very rejoiced to see his
friends and the egg again. They were soon back in their
castle and lawn, and when Jack began to feel lonesome he
did not find it hard to make out a fine young wife for him-
self, and his three friends were as happy as the day was
long.

THE GILLA RUA.

The Gilla Rua [Eed Fellow], when he had no suspicion
of you, you might turn him round your little finger, but
once he found you were a cannat, he;d outwit you if you
were as cute as Cahir-na-Goppal. He bought a mule one
day at the fair, and when he was riding it home, the eldest
of three brothers that were neighbours of his, met him, an*
axed him what he was after buying. " This brave mule,
to be sure," says he. " Mule inagh ! Oh, my poor Gilla,
don't you see it is a thorough-bred ass V\ "There's some
shraumogues on your eyes, my poor man," says Gilla. "Be
it so," says the other : " time 'ill tell." A quarter of a mile
further he met the second brother. " Good morrow, Gilla."
" Good morrow, sir." "Where are you going?" "Home
from the fair with this mule I bought." " Mule ! "Where
did you learn to give that name to a common sturJc of an

THE GILLA RUA. 99

ass 1 " " All ! give us none of your impedence. It is as
good a mule as you'd find in Leinster." " We'll see how
that's to be ; good morning to you."

Off he went, and Gilla began to be troubled. " Can it be
that there's anything amiss with my eyes 1 Here's two
honest neighbours that can't have any object in deceiving.
If the next man I meet tells me it's an ass, be this and be
that I'll make him a present of it." A quarter of a mile
further on, who did he meet but the youngest brother 1
(They laid out the plan early in the fair) " Morra, Gilla."
" Morra kindly," " Where were you |Ji &c. &c. and the
questions and answers went on till the third rogue cursed
and swore that the mule was an ass ; " And it's an ass
that's on his back," says Gilla. " Take him, and be hanged
to him ! "

Gilla came home, and Cauth [Catherine] his housekeeper
asked him where was the mule he went to buy. " Tat-
theration to him for a mule ! he turned out to be an ass,
and for sharoose I bestowed him on so-and-so." "Oh,
niusha, masther, but you're the sorra's own gaum. Sure
it was nothing but a thrick laid out between the three un-
hanged rogues to get your baste from you." Gilla stood for
a while in a quanda'ry. " Wait, Cauth," says he, " I'll pay
'em in their own coin."

He went and bought two goats that you wouldn't know

• one from another. He tied up one in the bawn, with plenty
of grass before her, and threw a wallet over the other's back,
and led her into town next market day. He was very busy
going from the butcher's to the grocer's, and from the grocer's
to the mealman's, and putting what he bought into both
ends of the wallet. The three rogues saw what he was
about, and asked him what it was all for. " It's for a
dinner it is, that I'm giving to-day to a few friends, and
yez three will be heartily welcome along with them. I
owe you a kindness for taking that nasty baste off my hands."
l( Faith an' we'll go with a heart an' a half." " Well, while
Jin is carrying the rnakins 0' the dinner home, let us wet

j our whistle." "Why, will the goat go home by herself?"
" She will, and give my message to Cauth. Here, Jin ; tell
Cauth to make the dumplins as she always does, and to

7*

100 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

boil a couple of heads of our best white cabbage with that
bacon, and to put the names of our three neighbours in the
pot, &c, &c, &c. There, away with you ! " He let the
goat loose with her head towards home, cracked his whip,
and off went Jin. It's not said that he ever laid eyes on
her again. They were just outside the town, and he took
the men in to give them share of a half gallon.

Well, they were so eager to see if the goat 'ud do as she
was desired, that they did'nt go home to put on their best
things, but went straight to Gilla's along with himself when
they took their drink.

They saw Jin, as they thought, at her dinner in the
bawn, and listened with all their ears cocked while Gilla
was questioning Cauth. " Did Jin give you my message?"
"Faith an she did." "What was it she said?" "Ah, sure it
was to boil our two best heads of white cabbage, to make
the dumplins as I always did, and put our three neighbours'
names in with the rest/' &c. " What a wonderful animal ! "
said one brother in a whisper to the others, and they whis-
pered and they cuggered. After dinner, says one of them
to Gilla ; " I'd like to buy that goat of yours. She'd amuse
our three wives and the childher." They all lived in the same
house. "What'll you take for her 1 " " 'Deed I don't wish
to part with her, she's a valuable beast, but you're good
neighbours, and you never lose what your neigbour gets :
you must have her for five an' twenty guineas." " Five
aud twenty dhonnasses (woes) ! say ten pounds, and well
be thinking of it." The end was, that they reckoned twenty
guineas into Gilla's hand and took the goat home. May
be they did'nt keep their families from getting a wink of
sleep that night with all the wonders they told about her.

Next morning says they to their wives, " Have a good
fire, and the water at the boil, but don't get anything ready.
We'll give you a threat to day. We'll take Jin to town,
put the dinner on her back, and send word by her how
you're to dress it." " Very well."

When the wallet was filled and the goat sent home with
the message, they never minded to see how she behaved, but
went in to take share of a quart ; but they were home at
one o'clock, rather muzzy with the beer they drank. When

THE GILL A RTJA. IOI

they came in, they found their wives* sitting ' with their
hands across, the table laid out, the spit before the fire, the
big pot boiling, but not a sign of food in any quarter.
" How's this 1 Did'nt the goat bring the dinner, and give
you the message ? " " Goat indeed ! Musha, if you're not
the naturals to be made a gazabo of by that cannat of a
Gilla Eua ! " They looked at one another. " He's done
us," says they. "Let us go and beat him within an inch of
his life."

They went, to his house with three good saplins in their
hands. They heard a great scolding match outside, and
when they got in they saw Gilla with a face like fire, cut-
ting gaaches (figures) in the air with a carving knife, and
Cauth doubled up in a corner afraid of her life. " Eli, man,
don't kill the poor woman ; what did she do?" "She
done enough, and more than enough. She put me up to
play the rogue on my good neighbours with them goats ;
but I'll have her life, so I will." He made a dart at her,
and thrust the point of the knife into a white pudding full
of blood that she had fixed snug and sausty under her arm.
Out spouted the blood, down fell Cauth, and lay as stiff
as a stake after a kick or two.

" Oh gracious !" says Gilla, coming to himself, "what's
this I've done 1 took your life, my poor woman, for nothing
as I might say. Oh, I'll be hung as high as Gildheroy, and
I deserve it. Oh ! Vuya, Vuya, why was I ever born 1 But
what am I sayin', and didn't remember my magic fife]" He
run to a box, took out a fife, and began to play, " Tatther
Jack Walsh" on it, and Cauth was up in two shakes, and
dancing like mad. " This is astonishing," says the brothers.
They forgot to ask for their twenty guineas, and when they
were going home, they were ten more guineas less than when
they entered the house, but they had the magic fife with
them.

Says Gilla, when he was giving it up, " Till you're used
to it, I wouldn't, if I was you, kill any neighbour, or any
one of your family. Try your skill on a pig, or a goose, or
any beast you'd be after killing, and never fear but you'll
be astonished. Well, they thought their heels too slow till
they got home. A pig was killed without loss of time, and

102 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OE IRELAND.

the eldest fellow 'began to blow into the fife like vengeance.
Ovoch ! the better he played the stiffer grew the poor car-
case, and they began to find they were taken in again.

They came to Gilla's house, but he wasn't to be had. But
they watched, and they watched, and they never rested till
they had him caught, tied up in a sack, and flung over one
of their shoulders. All their intention was to drown him,
and put it out of his power to play them more tricks.

They relieved one another, but they were as tired as tired
could be when they were passing the " Cat and Bagpipes"
within half a quarter of a mile of the deep pool in the river.

" How heavy the thief is !" says the one that was carry-
ing him. Lend a hand, and let us hang the sack on that
stump of a bough and get a drink." No sooner said than
done, and in with the fellows to refresh themselves.

Just then two men were driving by a flock of sheep, and
what did they hear but some one over their heads crying
out, "I won't have her; I won't be his son-in-law." They
looked up, and there was the voice coming out of the bag.
" What are you doing there f1 said they, "and who is it you
won't marry ?" " Sure it's the king's daughter. His ser-
vants are drinking now within there, and when they're done
they'll carry me to the palace, and put me to death if I don't
marry the princess." " And what can we do for you V
" Loosen the cord, let me out, and put one of your sheep
inside. I live at such a place, and if you come there with
me I'll pay you well for the wether." The men did as they
were asked, and Gilla and they went on driving the flock.

They were about a mile and a half away, when they saw
the three brothers coming after them. " Oh murdher !"
says one of them to the others, " there is Gilla, as stout and
strong as if he wasn't at the bottom of the turn- hole. What
are we to do ?" They came up, and Gilla shook hands with
them so good naturedly. " Ah, good neighbours," said he,
you've just done me the greatest favour in Europe. But
you needn't ask me how. I'll not tell you, for it wasn't out
of good nature entirely you did the good deed. You see
that flock of sheep, these honest men is helping me to drive
home. I can get a larger flock any hour or any day I like/'
" Oh, faith, we'll take our oaths never to do an ill turn to

THE GILLA RUA. IO3

you while we live." " Ah, "but you might break them."
" Oh 110, I'll swear by so and so, my second brother by so
and so, and the youngest by so and so. No one ever knew
us to break one of them oaths."

So they took the oaths, and he then told them that when
he was pitched into the water, he went down, down, till at
last he came to a meadow with thousands of sheep grazing
on it, and that a venerable shepherd gave him leave to bring
away all he wanted. " And here they are," said he. " Well,
and cant we jump in," said one fellow, " and go down to the
meadow1?" " It would be no use," said Gilla, "you must
be tied in a sack and thrown in ; you may get any of your
friends to fasten you in sacks and pitch you in." " Oh no,
that \id be telling the secret and spoil our market. You
and these honest men come with us, and pitch us in."

So the sheep were left in a pasture, and the men went
back. They got sacks at a farmer's house, and Gilla and the
shepherds pretended to tie them up hard and fast when
they came to the bank. But they left the cords so that
they could be easily loosed, and threw them in where there
was hardly five feet of water. Well they could see neither
meadows nor sheep, and when they found the breath leaving
them, they struggled and opened the mouths of the sacks
and got out. Well, they were mad with anger and shame,
but they were afraid of breaking their oaths, and that Gilla
would play them a worse trick than any of the others. So
they did not molest him any more. May every rogue like
them fare off as bad !

THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN.

The following story is in the main identical with that of Gilla na
ChrecJcan Gour in the former series. However, it differs considerably
from it in the language and some of the circumstances, besides it en-
ters more into detail. The Scealuidhe from whom it has been obtain-
ed considers it a more perfect piece of extravagance than the other,
but his judgment is not to be relied on, as he prefers a version heard
in the morn of life to one he finds in print at an advanced hour of its

104 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

afternoon. The public are welcome to their own opinions on the
subject.

There was a poor widow living down there near the Iron
Forge when the country was all covered with forests, and
you might walk on the tops of trees from Carnew to the
Lady's Island, and she had one boy. She was very poor,
as I said before, and was not able to buy clothes for her
son. So when she was going out, she fixed him snug and
combustible (comfortable) in the ash-pit, and piled the warm
ashes about him. The boy knew no better, and was as
happy as the day was long ; and he was happier still when
a neighbour gave his mother a kid, to keep him company
while herself was abroad. < The kid and the lad played like
two may-boys, and when she was old enough to give milk,
wasn't it a god-send to the little family? You wont pre-
vent the boy from growing up into a young man, but not
a screed of clothes had he then no more than when he was
a gorsoon.

One day as he was sitting comfortably in his pew, he
heard poor Jin bleating outside so dismally. It was only
one step for him to the door, another to the middle of the
road, and another to the gap going into the wood ; and
there he saw a pack of deer hounds tearing the life out of
his poor goat. He snatched a rampike out of the gap, was
up with the dogs while a cat would be licking her ear, and
in two shakes he made smithereens of the whole bilin' of
them. The hunters spurred their horses to ride him down,
but he ran at them with the terrible club, roaring with rage
and grief ; and horses and men were out of sight before he
could wink. He then went back, crying, to the poor goat.
Her tongue was hanging out, and her legs quivering, and
after she strove to lift her head and lick his hand, she lay
down cold and dead.

He lifted the body, and carried it into the cabin, and
pullilued over it till he fell asleep out of weariness ; and
then a butcher, that came in with other neighbours to pity
him, took away the body, and dressed the skin so smooth
and so soft, and fastened two thongs to two of the corners.
When the boy's grief was a little mollified, the neighbour
stepped in, and fastened the nice skin round his body. It

THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN. 105

fell to his knees, and the head skin was in front like a
Highlander's pocket.

He was so proud of his new dress, that he walked out
with his head touching the sky, and up and down the town
with him two or three times. " Oh dear !" says the people
standing at their doors, and admiring the great big boy,
" look at the Gilla na Chreckan Gour ;" and that name re-
mained on him till he went into his coffin. But pride and
fine dress wont make the pot boil. So his mother says to
him next morning, " Tom," says she, for that was his real
name, "you're idle long enough, so now that you are well
clad, and needn't be ashamed to appear before the neigh-
bours, take that rope, and bring in a special good bresna
[fagot] of rotten boughs from the forest." " Never say it
twice," says Gilla, and off he set into the heart of the wood.
He broke off and gathered up a great big fagot, and was
tying it when he heard a roar that was enough to split an
oak, and up walks a joiant a foot taller than himself, and
he was a foot taller than the tallest man you'd see in a fair.

" What brings you here, you vagabone?" says the giant,
says he, " threspassin' in my demesne, and stealin' my fire-
wood V " I'm doing no harm," says Gilla, " but clearing
your wood, if it is your wood, of rotten boughs." " I'll
let you see the harm you're doing," says the giant ; and,
with that, he made a blow at Gilla, that would have felled
an ox. " Is that the way you show civility to your neigh-
bours ?" says the other, leaping out of the way of the club:
" here's at you ;" and he leaped in, and caught the giant by
the body, and gave him such a heave that his head came
within an inch of the ground. But he was as strong as
Goliah, and worked up, and gave Gilla another heave equal
to the one he got himself. So they held at it, tripping,
squeezing, and twisting, and the hard ground became a bog
under their feet, and the bog became like the hard road.
At last Gilla gave the giant a great twist, got his right leg
behind his right leg, and flung him headlong again the root
of an oak tree.

He caught up the club from where the giant let it fall at
the beginning of the scrimmage, and said to him, " I am
going to knock out your brains ; what have you to say again

106 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

it f " Oh, nothing at all ! But if you spare my life,
I'll give you a flute that, whenever you play on it, will set
your greatest enemies a dancing, and they wont have power
to lay their hands on you, if they were as mad as march
hares to kill you." "Let us have it," says Gilla, "and
take yourself out of that." So the giant handed him the
flute out of his oxter-pocket, and home went Gilla as proud
as a paycoch, with his fagot on his back and his flute stuck
in it.

In three days time he went to get another fagot ; and
this day he was attacked by a brother of the same giant ;
and whatever trouble he had with the other he had it twice
with this one. He levelled him at last, and only gave him
his life on being offered a bottle of soft green wax of a won -
derful nature. If a person only rubbed it on the size of a
crown-piece of his body, fire, nor iron, nor any sharp thing
could do him the least harm for a year and a day after.
Home went Gilla with his bottle, and never stirred out for
three days, for he was a little tired and bruised after his
wrestling. The next fagot he went to gather, he met with
the third brother, and if they had'nt the dreadful struggle,
leave it till again ! They held at it from noon till night,
and then the giant was forced to give in. What he gave
for his life was a club, that he took away once from a
hermit, and any one fighting with that club in a just cause
would never be conquered.

If Gilla staid at home three days after the last struggle,
he did'nt stir for a week after this. It was of a Monday
morning he got up, and he heard a blowing of bugles, and
a terrible hullabulloo in the street. Himself and his
mother ran to the door, and there was a fine fat man on
horseback, with a jockey's cap on his head, and a quilt with
six times the colours of the rainbow on it hanging over
his shoulders. u Hear all you good people," says he, after
another pull at his bugle horn. " The king of Dublin's
daughter has not laughed for three years and a half, and
her father promises her in marriage, and his crown after his
death, to whoever makes her laugh three times." " And
here's the boy," says Gilla, "will make her do that, or
know the reason why."

THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN. 107

If one was to count all the threads in a coat, it wonld
never come into the tailor's hands, and if I was to reckon
all that Gilla' s mother and her neighbours said to him before
he set out, and all the steps he took after he set out, I'd
never have him as far as the gates of Dublin; but to Dub-
lin he got at last, as sure as fate. They were going to stop
him at the gates, but he gave a curl of his club round his
shoulder, and said he was coming to make the princess laugh.
So they laughed, and let him pass ; and maybe the doors
and windows were not crowded with women and children
gazing after the good-natured-looking young giant, with his
long black hair falling on his shoulders, and his goat-skin
skirt hanging from his waist to his knee . There was a great
crowd in the palace yard when he reached there, and ever
so many of them playing all sorts of tricks to get a laugh
from the princess ; but not a smile, even, could be got from
her. " What is your business ? " said the king, " and where
do you come from ? " "I come, my liege," said Gilla,
from the country of the " Yellow Bellies," and my business
is to make the princess, God bless her ! give three hearty
laughs." " God enable you ! " said the king. But an ugly,
cantankerous fellow near the king, with a white face and
red hair on him, put in his spoon, and says he to Gilla,
" My fine fellow, before any one is allowed to strive for the
princess, he is expected to show himself a man at all sorts
of matches with the champions of the court." "Nothing
will give me greater pleasure," says Gilla. So he laid down
his club, and spit in his fists, and a brave sturdy Gallo-
glach came up, and took him by the shoulder and elbow.
If he did, he did'nt keep his hold long : Gilla levelled him
while you'd wink, and then came another and another, till
two score were pitched on their heads.

Well, no one gripped him the second time ; but at last
all were so mad that they stopped rubbing their heads, and
hips, and shoulders, and made at Gilla in a body. The
princess was looking very much pleased at Gilla all the
time, but now she cried out to her father to stop the attack.
The white-faced fellow said something in the king's ear,
and not a budge did he make. But Gilla did not let him-
self be flurried. He took up his Jcippeen} and gave this

108 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

fellow a tap on his left ear, and that fellow a tap on his
right ear, and the other a crack on the ridge pole of his
head ; and maybe it was'nt a purty spectacle to see every
soul of two score of them tumbling over an helher, their
heads in the dust, and their heels in the air, and they
roaring "Murdher" at the ling of their life. But the best
of it was that the princess, when she saw the confusion,
gave a laugh like the ring of silver on a stone, so sweet
and so loud, that all in the court heard it ; and Gilla struck
his club butt-end on the ground, and says he, " King of
Dublin, I have won half of your daughter."

The face of Eed-head turned from white to yellow, but
no one minded him, and the king invited Gilla to dine
with himself and the princess and all the royal family. So
that day passed, and while they were at breakfast next
morning, Eed-head reminded the king that he had nothing
to do now but to send the new champion to kill the wild
beast, that was murdering every one that attempted to go
a hen's race beyond the city walls. The king did not say
a word one way or the other, but the princess said it was
not right nor kind to send a stranger out to his certain
death, for no one ever escaped the wild beast, if it could
get near them. "Til make the trial," says Gilla. "I'd face
twenty wild beasts to do any service to yourself or your
subjects."

So he inquired where the beast was to be found, and
White-face was only too ready to give him his directions.
The princess was sorrowful enough, when she saw him set-
ting out, but go he must and would. After he was gone a
mile beyond the gates, he heard a terrible roar in the wood
and a great cracking of boughs, and out pounced a terrible
beast on him, with great long claws, and a big mouth open
to swallow him, club and all.

When he was at the very last spring, Gilla gave him
a stroke on the nose ; and crack ! he was sprawling on his
back in two seconds. Well, that did not daunt him : he
was up, and springing again at Gilla, and this time the
blow came on him between the two eyes. Down and up
he was again and again, till his right ear, his left ear, his
right shoulder, and left shoulder were black and blue.

THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN. IO9

Then he sat on his hind quarters, and looked very surprised
at Gilla and his club. " Now, my tight fellow," says Gilla,
" follow your nose to Dublin gates. Do no harm to any
one, and I'll do no harm to you." " Waw ! waw ! waw ! "
says the beast, with his long teeth all stripped, and sparks
flashing from his eyes ; but when he saw the club coming
down on him, he put his tail between his legs, and walked
on. Now and then he'd turn about, and give a growl, but
a flourish of the club would soon set him on the straight
road again. Oh! if there wasn't racing and tearing into
houses and bawns, as they passed through the streets, and
roaring and bawling ; but Gilla nor the beast ever drew rein
till they came to the palace yard.

Well, if the people in the streets were frightened, the
people in the court were terrified. The king and his
daughter were in a balcony or something that way, and so
were out of danger; but lord, and gentleman, and officer,
and soldier, as soon as they laid eye on the beast, began to
run into passages and halls ; but* those that got in first
shut the doors in their fright ; and they that were kept out,
did not know what to do ; and the king cried out to Gilla
to take away the frightful thing. Gilla at once took his
flute out of his goat- skin pocket, and began to play, and
everyone in the court, — beast and body — began to dance.
There was the unfortunate beast obliged to stand on his
hind legs, and play heel and toe, while he shovelled about
after those that were next him, and he growling fearfully
all the time. The people striving to«Keep out of his way
were still obliged to mind their steps, but that didn't pre-
vent them from roaring out to Gilla to free them from their
tormentor. The beast kept a steady eye on Ked-head, and
was always sliding after him as well as the figures of the
dance would let him; and you maybe sure the poor fellow's
teeth were not strong enough to keep his tongue quiet.
"Well, it was all a fearful thing to look at, but it was very
comical too ; and as soon as the princess saw that Gilla's
power over the beast was strong enough to prevent him
from doing any hurt, and especially when she heard the
roars of Ked-head, and looked at his dancing, she burst out
laughing the second time.

1 10 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

" Now, King of Dublin," said Gilla. " I have won two
halves of the princess, and I hope it wont he long till the
third half will fall to me." " Oh ! for goodness* sake," said
the king, " never mind halves or quarters : banish this vaga-
bone beast to Bandon, or Halifax, or Lusk, or the Eed Say,
and we'll see what is to come next." Gilla took his flute
out of his mouth, and the dancing stopped like shot. The
poor beast was thrown off his balance, and fell on his side,
and a good many of the dancers had a tumble at the same
moment. Then said Gilla to the beast, " You see that street
leading straight to the mountain. Down that street with
you ; don't let a hare catch you ; and if you fall, don't wait
to get up ; and if I ever hear of you coming within a mile
of castle or cabin within the four seas of Ireland, I'll make
an example of you ; remember the club." He had no need
to give his orders twice. Before he was done speaking the
beast was half way down the street like a frightened dog
with a kettle tied to his tail. He was once after seen in
the Devil's Glen in Wicklow, picking a bone, and that's all
was ever heard of him.

Well, that was work enough for one day, and the potatoes
were just done in the big kitchen of the palace. I don't
know what great people take instead of stirabout and milk
before they go to bed. Indeed people do be saying that
some of them never leave the table from dinner to bed- time,
but I don't believe it. Anyhow they took dinner and sup-
per, and went to bed, everything in its own time, and rose
in the morning when the sun was as high as the trees.

So when they were at breakfast, Eed -head, who wasn't
at all agreeable to the match, says to the King in Gilla' s
hearing : " The Danes, ill luck be in their road ! will be near
the city in a day or two ; and it is said in an old prophecy
book, that if you could get the flail that's hanging on the
couple under the ridge pole of Hell you could drive every
enemy you have into the sea, — Dane or divel. I'm sure,
sir, Gilla wouldn't have much trouble in getting that flail:
nothing seems too hot or too heavy for him." " If he goes,"
said the princess, " it is against my wish and will." " If he
goes," said the King, " it is not by my order." " Go I
will," said Gilla, "if any one shows me the way." There

THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN. 1 1 I

was an old gentleman with a red nose on him sitting at the
tahle, and says he, " Oh ! Ill shew you the way : it lies down
Cut Purse Eow. You will know it by the sign of the
" Cat and Bagpipes " on one side, and the " Ace of Spades "
stuck in the window opposite." "I'm off," says Gilla : "pray
all of you for my safe return." He easily found the " Cat
and Bag-pipes," and the "Ace of Spades," and nothing
further is said of him till he was knocking at Hell's Gate.
It was opened by an old fellow with horns on him
seven feet loug, and says he to Gilla, mighty politely,
" What is it you want here, sir ¥' " I am a great tra-
veller," said Gilla, " and wish to see every place worth
seeing, inside and outside." "Oh! if that's the case," says
the porter, " walk in. Here, brothers, show this gentle-
man-traveller all the curosities of the place." "With that
they all, big and little, locked and bolted every window and
door, and stuffed every hole, till a midge itself couldn't find
its way out ; and then they surrounded Gilla with their spits,
and pitch-forks, and sprongs ; and if they didn't whack and
prod him it's a wonder. " Gentlemen," says Gilla, " these
are the tricks of clowns. Fair play is bonny play : show
yourselves gentlemen if you have a good drop at all in you.
Hand me a weapon, and let us fight fair. There's an old
flail on that couple, it will do as well as another." " Oh,
yes ! the flail ! the flail !" cried them all ; and some little
imps climbed up the rafters, pulled down the flail, and
handed it to Gilla, expecting to see his hands- burned
through the moment it touched them.* They knew no-
thing of the giant's balsam that Gilla rubbed on his hands
as he was coming along, but they soon knew and felt the
strength of his arm when he was knocking them down like
nine-pins, and thrashing them, arms, legs, and bodies, like
so much oaten straw. " Oh ! murdher ! murdher ! " says
the big devil of all, at last. " Stop your hand, and we'll
give you anything in our power." "Well," says Gilla,
" F ve seen all I want in your habitation. I don't like the
welcome I've got, and will thank you to open the gate."
Oh ! wasn't there twenty pair of legs tearing in a moment
to let Gilla out. " You don't mean, I hope, to carry off
the flail," says the big fellow ; " it's very useful to us in

112 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

winter." " Tt was the very thing that brought me here,"
says Gilla, " to get it, and I won't leave without it ; but if
you look in the black pool of the Liffey at noon to-morrow,
you'll find it there/' Well, they were very down in the
mouth for the loss of the flail, but a second rib-roasting
wasn't to be thought of. When they had him fairly lock-
ed out, they put out their tongues at him through the bars,
and shouted, "Ah! Gilla na Chreckan Gour ! wait till you're
let in here so easy again ;" but he only answered, " You'll
let me in when I ask you."

There was both joy and terror at court when they saw
Gilla coming back with the terrible flail in his hand.
" Now,'' says every one, " we care little for the Danes and
all their kith and kin. But how did you coax the fellows
down below to give up the implement V So he told them
as much as he chose, and was very glad to see the welcome
that was on the princess's face. Red-head thought it
would be a fine thing to have the flail in his power. So he
crept over to where Gilla laid it aside after charging no one
to touch it ; but his hand did not come within a foot of it,
when he thought it was burned to the bone. He danced
about, shook his arm, put his fist to his mouth, and roared
out for water. " Couldn't you mind what I said ']" says
Gilla, " and that wouldn't have happened," However he
took Bed- head's hand within his own two that had the
ointment, and he was freed from the burning at once. Well,
the poof rogue looked so relieved, and so ashamed, and so
impudent at the same time, that the princess joined in the
laughing of all about. " Three halves at last/' said Gilla.
" Now, my liege," said he, " I hope that after I give a good
throuncing to the Danes, you will fulfil your promise."
" There are no two ways about that," said the king. tl Danes
or no Danes, you may marry my daughter to-morrow, if she
makes no objection herself." Red-head, seeing by the prin-
cess's face that she wasn't a bit vexed at what her father
said, ran up to his room, thrust his head into a cupboard,
and nearly roared his arm off, but the company down stairs
did not seem to miss him.

Early in the forenoon of next day a soldier came run-
ning in all haste from the bridge that crossed the Liffey,

THE FELLOW IN THE GOAT-SKIN. I T3

and said the Danes were coming in thousands from the
north, all in brass armour, brass pots on their heads, and
brass pot-lids on their arms, and that the yellow blaze com-
ing from their ranks was enough to blind a body. Out-
marched the king's troops with the king at their head, to
hinder the Danes from getting into the town over the
bridge. First went Gilla with his flail in one hand, and
his club in the other. He crossed the bridge, and when
the enemy were about ten perch away from him, he shout-
ed out, " This flail belongs to the devil, and who has a bet-
ter right to it than his children V' So saying, he swung it
round his head, and flung it with all his power at the front
rank. It mowed down every man it met in its course, and
when it cut through the whole column, and the space was
clear before it, it sunk down, and flame and smoke flew up
from the breach it made in the ground. The soldiers at
each side of the lane of dead men ran forward on Gilla, .but
as every one came within the sweep of his club, he was
dashed down on the bridge or into the river. On they rush-
ed like a snow storm, but they melted like the same snow
falling into a furnace. Gilla kept before the pile of the
dead soldiers, but at last his arms began to tire. Then the
king and his men came over, and the rest of the Danes
were frightened and fled.

Often was Gilla tired in his past life, but that was the
greatest and tiresomest exploit he ever done. He lay on a
settle bed for three days ; but if he did, hadn't he the prin-
cess and all her maids of honour to wait on him, and pity
him, and give him gruel, and toast, and tay of all the co-
lours under the sun.

Eedhead did his best to stop the marriage, but once
when he was speaking to the king, one of the body guards
swore he'd open his skull with his battle-axe if ever he
dared open his mouth again about it. So married they
were, and as strong as Gilla was, if ever his princess and
himself had a scrutiny [dispute], I know who got the upper
hand.

114 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

THE HAUGHTY PRINCESS.

There was once a very worthy king, whose daughter
was the greatest beauty that could be seen far or near, but
she was as proud as Lucifer, and no king or prince would
she agree to marry. J3er father was tired out at last, and
invited every king, and prince, and duke, and earl that he
knew or didn't know to come to his court to give her one
trial more. They all came, and next day after breakfast,
they stood in a row in the lawn, and the princess walked
along in the front of them to make her choice. One was
fat, and says she, " I won't have you, Beer-barrel !" One
was tall and thin, and to him she said, " I won't have you,
Eamrod !" To a white-faced man she said, "I won't have
you, Pale Death;" and to a red-cheeked man she said, "I
won't have you, Cockscomb !" She stopped a little before
the last of all, for he was a fine man in face and form. She
wanted to find some defect in him, but he had nothing re-
markable but a ring of brown curling hair under his chin.
She admired him a little, and then carried it off with, " I
won't have you, Whiskers !"

So all went away, and the kiug was so vexed, he said to
her, " Now, to punish your impedence, I'll give you to the
first beggarman or singing sthronshuch that calls," and, as
sure as the hearth-money, a fellow all over rags, and hair
that came to his shoulders, and a bushy red beard all over
his face, came next morning, and began to sing before the
parlour window.

When the song was over, the hall-door was opened, the
singer asked in, the priest brought, and the princess mar-
ried to Beardy. She roared and she bawled, but her father
didn't mind her. " There," says he to the bridegroom, "is
five guineas for you. Take your wife out of my sight, and
never let me lay eyes on you or her again."

Off he led her, and dismal enough she was. The only
thing that gave her relief was the tones of her husband's
voice and his genteel manners. " Whose wood is this j?j
said she, as they were going through one. " It belongs to
the king you called Whiskers yesterday." He gave her the

THE HAUGHTY PRINCESS. I J j

same answer about meadows and corn fields, and at last a
fine city. " Ah, what a fool I was !" said she to herself.
" He was a fine man, and I might have him for a husband."
At last they were coming up to a poor cabin, " Why are
you bringing *ne here f says the poor lady. " This was
my house/' said he, " and now it's yours." She began to
cry, but she was tired and hungry, and she went in with
him.

Ovoch ! there was neither a table laid out, nor a fire
burning, and she was obliged to help her husband to light
it, and boil their dinner, and clean up the place after ; and
next day he made her put on a stuff gown and a cotton
handkerchief. When she had her house readied up, and
no business to keep her employed, he brought home sallies
[willows], peeled them, and showed her how to make bas-
kets. But the hard twigs bruised her delicate fingers, and
she began to cry. Well, then he asked her to mend their
clothes, but the needle drew blood from her fingers, and
she cried again. He couldn't bear to see her tears, so he
bought a creel of earthenware, and sent her to the market
to sell them. This was the hardest trial of all, but she
looked so handsome and sorrowTful, and had such a nice
air about her, that all her pans, and jugs, and plates, and
dishes were gone before noon, and the only mark of her old
pride she showed was a slap she gave a buckeen across the
face when he axed her to go in an' take share of a quart.

Well, her husband was so glad, he sent her with 'another
creel the next day, but faith, her luck was after deserting
her. A drunken huntsman came up riding, and his beast
got in among her ware, and made briske of every mother's
son of 'em. She wrent home cryirj', and her husband wasn't
at all pleased. " I see," said he, "you're not fit for busi-
ness. Come along, I'll get you a kitchen-maid's place in
the palace. I know the cook."

So the poor thing was obliged to stifle her pride once
more. She was kept very busy, and the footman and the
butler wrould be very impudent about looking for a kiss,
but she let a screech out of her the first attempt was made,
and the cook gave the fellow such a lambasting with the
besom that he made no second offer. She went home to

I 1 6 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

her husband every night, and she carried broken "victuals
wrapped in papers in her side pockets.

A week after she got service there was great bustle in
the kitchen. The king was going to be married, but no
one knew who the bride was to be. Well, in the evening
the cook filled the princess's pockets with cold meat and
puddings, and says she, " Before you go, let us have a look
at the great doings in the big parlour/' So they came near
the door to get a peep, and who should come out but the
king himself, as handsome as you please, and no other but
King Whiskers himself. " Your handsome helper must
pay for her peeping," says he to the cook, " and dance a
jig with me." Whether she would or no, he held her hand
and brought her into the parlour. The fiddlers struck up,
and away went him and her. But they hadn't danced two
steps when the meat and the puddens flew out of her pockets.
Every one roared out, and she flew to the door, crying
piteously. But she was soon caught by the king, and taken
into the back parlour. " Don't you know me, my darling %"
said he. " I'm both King Whiskers, your husband 'the
ballad singer, and the drunken huntsman. Your father
knew me well enough when he gave you to me, and all was
to drive your pride out of you." Well, she didn't know
how she was with fright, and shame, and joy. Love was
uppermost anyhow, for she laid her head on her husband's
breast and cried like a child. The maids of honour soon had
her away and dressed her as fine as hands and pins could
do it ; and there were her mother and father, too ; and while
the company were wandering what end of the handsome
girl and the king, he and his queen, who they didn't know
in her fine clothes, and the other king and queen came
in, and such rejoicings and fine doings as there was, none
of us will ever see, any way.

DOCTOR CURE-ALL.

There was once a poor fagot-cutter that used to work
very hard, and one day that he took a load of fagots ^to

DOCTOR CURE-ALL. I I 7

the doctor in the next town, he was brought into the par-
lour to be paid, and didn't he admire the fine furniture he
saw about him ! When he was coming away, says he to
the doctor, " Musha, sir, would you lend me one of these
fine-bound books for about a quarter of a year or so, and
I'll return it honestly P " What is the book to be about f '
says the doctor, "and what do you want with it?' "I
don't care what it's about," says he, " and I'll tell you when
I return it the use I'll make of it." The doctor laughed,
and gave him a well-looking wolume, but I don't know no
more nor the fagot-cutter himself what was in it.

" A fine thing," says he, " to be slavin' oneself as I do
for my bit and sup, and see what grandeur that man is in
for doing nothing at all, as a body might say." When he
got home, he removed bag and baggage into the town after
selling his little furniture, and buying a shute of broad-
cloth, and a Caroline hat, and a Barcelona hanlcecher. He
got a painter to put up a sign-board with Doctor Cure-all
over his door, put some bottles on a shelf, and sat down at
his little round table with his book before him. Well, he
soon got custom, but all the cures he knew was bowl alma-
nac [Bole-Armeniac], salts and senna, castor oil, and sugar
and soap for plasters. But he was so courageous in pro-
mising cures, and so many got well, no thanks to him, and
there wras so many that there was nothing amiss with at all,
that he soon got a great name. He even recovered stolen
things, for he gave out that he knew by his books who
had them, and the thieves used to bring them unknownst
to him, and give him some money for not telling on them.

Well, there was a gentleman in the neighbourhood that
had a very valuable ring taken from him, and he sent for
Dr. Cure-all to find out the thief for him. " I'll find him
out," says he, "if he's above ground, but it can't be done
in a minute. I'll have to see where you kept it, and get a
lock of hair from every one in the house, and study my
conjurin' book for eight days. The ninth morning you'll
have the ring safe and sound. I'll have to stay on the pre-
mises the whole time." " Very good," says the gentleman.

Well, he lived like a fighting cock for five days, but I
give you my word he began then to get uneasy, for no one

I 1 8 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

about the house seemed inclined to confess, though he gave
out from the beginning that he'd have his hand on the
thief the evening of the eighth day. The evening of the
sixth he was walking in the paddock near the hedge, and
he was muttering to himself, " Three days only now, and
be this and be that there goes one of 'em ! " says he in an
angry voice. Well, there was three rogues of servants con-
cerned in the robbery, and one of them was padrotvliri
[patrolling] in the cabbage-garden the other side of the hedge
the same minute. He never drew rein till he got to the
other fellows, and says he," We're discovered as sure as fate."

Well, they talked and they talked, and didn't know what
to do till next evening, when the second of 'em was close
by the hedge, and what did he hear but the doctor cry out,
" And there goes the second of 'em ! " Well, they were
more frightened now than before, and came to the point of
confessing if the doctor knew there was three of 'em. The
next evening the poor man was walking sorrowful enough
in the same place. "Ovoch !" was he saying to himself,
u there was only three evenings of the time left since I took
my walk here to give the thief an opportunity of talking to
me," and then his heart was so bitter he cried out, " Here
is the third of 'em !" " Docthor, docthor," says a voice the
other side of the hedge, " you're a considherate man ; here's
the ring and a guinea-note along with it : keep our secret."
" You don't deserve it, you unlucky rogue, for delaying so
long. The master 'ud have you in the stone-jug [gaol] to-
morrow only for your late rejDentance."

Well, the whole family were assembled in the big par-
lour next morning, and the doctor sitting very stately in an
arm-chair. " Who is the robber V says the master. " I
know the robber, and the place he hid the ring," says the
doctor, " but I can only reveal one ; which is it to be V
The master, of course, chose to get his valuable ring. "Well,
then," says he,"go to the hen-house wherever that is; I don't
know. Put your right hand on the little board that's inside
over the door, and in the middle of it you'll find what you're
in search of." Out went the mistress and the little girl that
minded the fowl, and there the ring was sure enough.

Well, there was great joy, you may depend, and very

DOCTOR CURE-ALL. 119

great honour was paid to the wise man, but the master s
brother that came that day on a visit, wouldn't give the
doctor any credit at all. " Wait till dinner time," says
he " and if I don't astonish his weak mind, you may say
what you like." Well, the brother and his servant were
cooking something very secretly in the kitchen before
dinner time, and when that was over, and the doctor's
health was drunk, and himself greatly praised, says the
brother, " Doctor, I'll praise you more than all the family
if you tell me what's in this covered plate." Ah, wouldn't
anyone pity the poor man at that moment ? "No use," says
he to himself, " in throwing sand in people's eyes any
longer." Then speaking out loud, says he, " Ah, sir, let
the fox go as far as he pleases, he'll be cotch [caught] at
last." " Well," says the gentleman, " I see I must give it
up. It's a bit of a fox sure enough !" He lifted the cover
for an instant, and then threw plate and cover and fox out
of the window. And that's the way with the world. Im-
pedence will bring a man through an auger hole, where an
honest man cant get through an open gate.

THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM.

There was once a townland called Gotham, but maybe
it's now swallowed up and covered with sand like Bannow,
or maybe a moving bog went over it, for I never heard any
one say he knew where it was. Well, four brothers lived
in it, and they were called the wise men of Gotham, and
you might as well call Pat Neil [see " The Banks of the
Boro"] a wise man, I'm sure. One of them took a big
cheese to town to sell it one market day. He was on horse-
back, and just as he came to the brow of a steep hill just
outside the town, the cheese dropped and began to roll
down the slope like vengeance. " Oh, ho !" says he, "is
that the way 1 I'll take this other road into town, and I'll
engage I'll get there before you." So he put spurs to his
horse, and he was soon in the nighest street that was just
at the bottom of the hill. Neither the cheese nor the

120 THE FTRESIDE STORIES OP IRELAND.

ghost of the cheese was there. He rode up the hill, and
looked in the dykes for his cheese, hut, 'deed, he returned
home hungry and dry, and he had neither the cheese nor
the value of it.

Well, they were "blaming him, sure enough, till he began
to think he hadn't done a very wise thing after all. "And
what would you do if you were in my place V ' said he co
one of his brothers. " Well, I think I'd go and buy another
cheese the same size and roll it down, and ride after it and
see where it would go/' " That's not a bad thought/' says
another, " but if it happened to me I think I'd sit at the
market-cross till I'd hear the bell-man crying out where it
was to be got, for it's very likely some honest person found
it." " But," says the last, " I think I'd pay Browzy [the
once bellman of Enniscorthy] a thirteen to cry it, and offer
half of it for reward. For didn't yez all often hear, " Half
a loaf is better than no bread V*

Next market day another of the brothers went to sell
another cheese, and he determined he'd be very cunning if
any mischance happened him. Well, just at the very same
place he dropped his cheese too. It didn't roll, for it came
down in a car- track. This second wise man pulled out his
sword, and made a prod at it to lift it up, but it was too
short, and if it was long enough itself, it was too blunt at
the end. So he rode into the town, and bought a long
sword with a sharp point at the cutler's, and rode back
again.

His cheese wasn't there, nor half way down the hill, nor
at the bottom of the hill. He recollected what was said at
home, and sat at the market cross till sunset to see if the
honest finder would cry it. Then he paid his thirteen to
the bellman, offering half the cheese to the finder for re-
ward. But the poor man had the dark night round him
coming home, and no great welcome when he got there, for
he had neither the cheese nor its value no more than his
brother.

The four brothers cared for no one's company but their
own, and they all lived together. But a neighbour wTho
had a few marriageable daughters said so much about what
a shame it was for none of them to have a wife, that a

THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM. 12 i

match was made up between the eldest and the neighbour's
eldest daughter, and a new house was built for the couple at
the end of the big bawn. The evening before the wedding,
says the bridegroom, "I'm rather afeard of this change.
I've heard of women tyrannizing over their husbands, and
beating them within an inch of their lives, and if she took
a fancy to throunce me in the night, you wouldn't hear me
from the new house." That speech frightened the whole
family. " Ah !" says the second eldest, " let it be put in
the marriage articles that there shan't be a stick kept in
the house thicker than your little finger. She can't kill
you with that, anyway." Well, that gave them all great
comfort, till a gomula of a servant-boy put in his word.
" Oh, faith, if she's inclined for battle it's not the little
kippeen she'll take to, while she has the tongs at hand."
All were thrown into a quandary again, but the boy soon
gave them relief. " I'll tell you what we'll do. When the
new mistress, God bless her, goes to whack the young mas-
ter, let him bawl out like a man. The boy 'ill hear him
from the stable loft, he'll bawl out, ancf the thresher will
hear him from his shass [heap of sheaves] in the barn. I'll
hear the thresher from the settle-bed in the kitchen. The
old mistress '11 hear me, and all the house '11 hear her."
They all clapped their hands for joy, and the marriage
didn't frighten anyone. The stable boy, and the thresher,
and the boy in the settle said they didn't close an eye for a
whole week after the marriage, for fear of an attack on the
master. I don't believe them. No one staid awake after
that, and the bridegroom might be killed for anything they
done to hinder it.

At last all were married to the other sisters, but the
dickens afoot farther than the four corners of the big bawn
they'd separate from one another.

They were all conversing one day in the bawn, and one
of them made a remark that put them all into a great fright.
" Aren't there four brothers of us altogether V says he.
" To be sure," says one, and " To be sure," says another.
" Well," says he, " I'm after counting, and I can't make
out one more than three." " And neither can I," says one,
and "Neither can I," says another, and "Neither can I,"

122 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OP IRELAND.

says the last. " Some one must be dead or gone away."
Well, they were all in a fright, I can tell you, for a while.
At last says the one that spoke first, " Let every one go and
sit on the ridge of his house, and I'll soon see who is miss-
ing." Well, they done so, and then the poor fellow that
staid to count, after looking all round, cried out, " Oh,
murdher, nxurdher ! there's no one on my own house. It's
myself that's missing/' That's all I ever heard of the Wise
Men of Gotham, and I'm sure it's no great loss.

THE GOOD BOY AND THE BOY THAT ENVIED HIM.

There was once a lord and lady, and they had two ser-
vant boys. One was a fine innocent young fellow that
everybody was fond of ; the other was an envious ounkrawn,
that begrudged all the people about him the very air they
breathed. The lady was very kind to the good young boy,
because he was so well disposed, and because her little son
and daughter were so fond of him. The bad boy was al-
ways striving to buz into the lord's head some mistrust of
his comrade ; and at last, as they were coming home from
hunting, a devilish grin came on his face as he pointed to
where the lady was standing in the garden, and the page
holding her hand in his own two, and his mouth down on
it. Well, the lord was astonished you may be sure, and his
face became like a coal. He said nothing, but walked up
to his room without speaking to any one.

There was a foundry on his estate, and there he rode in
the cool of the evening. He went into the room where the
great furnace was, and said he to the two men that were
minding it, " If any one comes to you to-morrow morning
and asks you from me if the job I gave you is done, take
him and pitch him into the red fire before you." " Oil
Lord, sir, what has he done ¥' "If he wasn't worthy of
death I wouldn't be here to give this order." " Oh, your
lordship, it shall be done."

Next morning says he to the young boy, " Go down to
the foundry, and ask the two men that are minding the

THE GOOD BOY AND THE BOY THAT ENVIED HIM. 1 23

fire if the job I bade them do is finished." The page
wished for nothing better. The sun was shining, and he'd
have a delightful walk through the meadows and the wTood.
So he went on, the birds singing in the trees, and he sing-
ing along with them out of innocence and a light heart.
The meadows brought him to the wood, and he had to go
more than two miles across it to come out on the road the
other side, and there was the foundry. After he was half
a mile into it, he bethought him of an advice his mother
gave him when he was leaving home, and that was, never
to take a short cut while he had the high road to travel by.

Back he turned to where a cross path led out to the road
on his left. About the time he got out on the road, his
wicked comrade was entering the wood by the same way
himself was taking at first. He kept walking along pretty
smart, but not so smart as to overtake the good boy if he
hadn't turned back.

While the good boy was going along without hurrying
himself, he came up to a little chapel by the roadside, and
he did not pass it without going in to say some prayers.
For that was another parting advice his mother gave him,
never to pass by a chapel that was open without going in
and performing some devotion. Mass was just beginning,
and he thought for the short time it would hold it wasn't
worth his while to go out. So he joined piously with the
priest, and when it was over he stepped out rather quick to
make up for the delay. When he came to the furnace he
asked the men if the job their lord gave them was done.
" Oh, faith it is so," said the wickedest -looking of the two,
and he put the devil's own grin on him, and pointed to the
furnace. Though he didn't understand him, he didn't like
his looks nor his tones ; so he turned round, and set off as
smart as he could home.

The lord was sitting in his hall, rather troubled in mind,
and there he had been from soon after the young boy left
the house. He began to be afraid that he'd been too hasty.
It might be all innocent enough, he thought ; my wife
might be after doing something for himself or his mother,
and that's the way he was showing his gratitude. I was

I 24 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

very wrong. There is no more tlian suspicion after all. He
called the first servant that was passing. " Go and tell 80-

and-so [naming the wicked boy]" " Sir, I saw him .

going the same way that the widow's son took after you
gave him some directions." " How long after V' " About
half an hour." Just at the moment in came the lady of
the house, and she made a sign to the servant to go out.

She then held her hand that had a scar on it over to her
husband, and said with such a pious and grateful air on her
features, " Oh, my dear husband, how happy I am, and
how glad you'll be to hear of the escape I had yesterday !
While myself, and the children, and the widow's son were
walking in the garden, I was pulling a flower, and a snake
darted on my hand and bit it. Oh, so frightened as I was !
But the poor boy ran and caught it, and sucked away at
the wound, spitting out every now and then. The doctor
was luckily in the castle, and the moment I could get my
hand from the poor boy's mouth, and get to my room, I had
him brought. Well, he said nothing could be better than
what the poor child did ; but, to make sure, he put some
caustic to it. He said he couldn't be sure whether there
would be any danger till to-day. I did not tell you all
along for fear of afflicting you ; but the doctor saw it just
now, and said there was no danger whatever. Oh, aren't
you glad V9

I nor no one could describe the torment the lord endu-
red while his wife was speaking. His face was frightful to
see. When his lady stopped he sprung up like a madman
and was rushing out, when the door opened and there was
the boy he thought burned to a cinder, full of life and
sprightliness, before him, and his face so rosy after his walk.
Only there was a chair at hand he'd have fallen on the
floor. There he sat without saying a word or raising his
eyes for a quarter of an hour, feeling a deadly sickness in-
side, and as if his brain was going to burst. His lady and
the page were terribly frightened ; but he made signs to
them to be quiet, and at last came to himself.

When he was able to question the young boy, and heard
all he could tell, and saw no sign of the envious creature

THE GOOD BOY AND THE BOY THAT ENVIED HJM. I 2 5

making his appearance, he guessed how it came about, and
saw the hand of God in the rescue of the innocent and the
punishment of the guilty.

He was up to this time a passionate and selfish sort of
man, fond of worldly pleasures of all kinds ; but a great
reformation took place in him from that day. He acknow-
ledged to his wife the whole thing from beginning to end,
and while he lived he lamented the doom of the unhappy
informer.

CHOOSING THE LEAST OF THREE EVILS.

There was once a very holy monk, and the devil was lay-
ing siege to him night and day to make him commit sin.
Well, the Old Boy was not able to get any advantage over
him, but the poor man was tormented out of his life by the
constant annoyance he got from the bad thoughts the devil
was putting in his head. At last says the black thief to
him, " Fll make a bargain with you that you'll own is en-
tirely to your own profit. Commit one mortal sin to oblige
me, and I'll let you alone all the rest of your life. And
I'll give you your choice. Get drunk, or commit murder,
or take liberties with your neighbour's wife." Well, the
good man said to himself, " It is better to be left at peace.
I'll get drunk ; it is much the least of these sins, and sure
I'll repent heartily for it, and do penance. What signifies
it towards the torment the thief makes me endure putting
nasty things in my head every minute in the day V So in
the evening he got his whiskey, and his sugar, and his hot
water, and made himself comfortable, and, bedad, he began
to indulge in bad thoughts that he'd drive awa}^, with God's
help, at any other time the moment they'd enter his head.
The porters wife just came in to stir the fire, or to do some-
thing, and nothing would do my poor monk but to fling
his arms round her neck and give her a smack. She bawl-
ed out, and her husband that was in the passage ran in,
and knocked the drunken man down. The devil gave him
strength, I suppose, for he got hold of the tongs and gave

126 THE FIRESTDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

the husband such a crack on the head as left him senseless.
The cries of the woman brought a lot of people into the
room, and my poor sinner was taken and punished. I don't
know whether the husband was killed or not ; but you see
by this that we're never to listen to the devil's advice in
anything, or commit a sin with our free will for any consi-
deration in the world. The poor monk thought he'd only
get drunk, and do nobody any harm, and see the other
crimes it brought on his head.

THE HERMIT AND THE ROBBER.

There was once a very holy hermit, who was very exact
in all his duties ; but one cold winter's night, when he was
examining his conscience, he recollected that some of his
duties of that very day were neglected. He felt such sorrow
for his fault that he threw off his clothes, and went into
a deep part of the river that ran at the bottom of the hill
in which his cell was scooped out. While he was there
shivering and perishing with the cold, though he hardly
felt it on account of his sorrow, he heard a voice saying,
" Come out of the water when this twig blossoms," and at
the same time he felt it in his hand. Just then a man went
by driving four or five head of cattle before him. When
he saw the poor man with only his head above the water,
he called out, " Oh, God help you, my poor fellow ! can you
come near the edge till I pull you out ]" " I dont want
to be pulled out. I am here punishing myself for a sin of
omission." "Omission! what's that? Killed any body
after robbing him ?" "No." " Betrayed your comrade, and
got him hanged 1" " No." " Well, robbed a chapel f ' &c,
&c. "No." "Well, I am beat. What was it then?"
" It was so and so ; — neglected my prayers, and the few I
said were not said with any devotion."

The man was going to laugh, but he stopped himself.
" Oh gracious ! If you think you deserve punishment for
such a fleabite as that, what's to become of me that's just
after stealing these cattle, and didn't do much better for

THE HERMIT AND THE ROBBER. 12 J

seven years past ? Fll repent and punish myself just as
you're doing. Maybe God will pardon me, when he sees
my heart changed." He turned the cattle about, and put
them on the way back to their farm, and came back, and
stripped himself, and went and stood by the hermit. After
some time he heard the same voice, and found the second
twig in his hand. Angels appeared to them at last, and the
robber was delighted to see blossoms on his twig. He did
not see any on the hermit's, and was unwilling to leave the
wTater before him. However it bloomed out half a minute
later, and out came the both joyfully. So you see a great
sinner that gets a strong turn at once against his evil life,
and forsakes it, is in a better state than a shilly-shally
lukewarm person, that performs his duties and devotions
in a dawdling lazy manner.

BIETH AND BAPTISM OF ST. MOGUE.

Saint Killian, on a day of the days missed his oxen which
he pastured at Fenagh in Cavan, and set off in quest of
them. He came up with them* on the edge of Templeport
lake, standing without a stir, and looking steadfastly at the
island which lay in the middle of the sheet of water. The
ferryman's house was near the spot, and he asked the wife
if anything remarkable had happened in the island during
the night. She said that a strange woman had got herself
ferried across to it, and had been delivered of a fine man
child. Moreover the bedpost which she had grasped in her
pains had sent roots into the ground ; and from its top had
sprung branches in full leaf and flower, and gone through
the roof. " Where's your husband and the boat 1 " said
the saint. " At the farther side of the lake," said she.
" Bring out something, on which you may go across to the
island for the. infant, that I may baptise him." " There is
nothing on which I could sit or stand but the hearthstone,
and sure that would not do." " Well, try it." " But sure
I couldn't lift it." " Make the attempt." She did so, and
the flag was no heavier than a thin dry board. The saint

128 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

placed it on the water, bade the woman get on it, and spread
out her shawl to catch the breeze. She obeyed, and had a
delightful sail to the island.

There she received the child from Eithne its mother,
brought it to the saint, and he baptised it by the name of
Mogue. The woman then re-conveyed it to the island to
its mother, and in time he became a priest, spent some time
with St. David in Wales, and during the later years of his
life governed the Bishopric of Ferns in Wexford.

The miraculous hearthstone afterwards conveyed many a
corpse to its place of interment in the island.

THE GREEDY MASON.

A Saint was busily occupied raising the walls of a Cathe-
dral in Ulster ; and in order that his workmen should be
freed from the annoyance of providing themselves with food,
and so have their minds entirely fixed on the great work
in hand, his pet cow was slaughtered every evening, care-
fully skinned, and her flesh cooked for the supper of his
people. On this and some bread and sorrel they made a
hearty meal, and felt neither hunger nor weariness till their
next day's work was done. All the company had charge
not to break or injure a bone of the animal : these were
collected after the meal, and wrapped carefully in the skin,
and next morning the wonderful cow was grazing as com-
posedly as if no liberties had been taken with her fat or
lean the evening before.

All this had pleasantly gone on for months, and the build-
ing was near its completion, when what should meet the
eyes of the saint one morning, as he was going to inspect
the progress of the building, but his poor cow limping along
on three legs'? She lowed dismally at her kind master, and
he experienced as sharp a pang of annoyance as any saint
could endure. He had the work suspended, and ordered
the men all into his presence. " 1 shall not give any of
you/' said he, " a pretence for telling a falsehood : pass be-
fore me till I discover the sensual wretch who, for sake of

THE GREEDY MASON. 1 29

a little marrow, broke a leg bone of our poor pet cow, our
support, our earthly treasure. Pass before me one by one.
I shall soon read in the glutton's face the evidence of his
crime.

"No need," said the repentant culprit. " I am the wretch,
and will patiently suffer any punishment you may inflict."

" You have done well/ 'said the saint. " Had you endea-
voured to conceal your crime, you would die by the fall of
a stone before the building would be completed. However,
the curse shall remain in your family ; and a late descend-
ant of yours shall perish as he passes by this cathedral,
from a slipping of one of the walls." To this day a de-
scendant of the man will not dare to walk by the crumbling
walls of the old building.

This saintly legend was not the work of an ordinary hagio-
grapher. Some bardic romancer had received by tradition
such a pagan myth as that of the ]STorse deities feeding on
their boar or their horse Sleipner after their daily combats
were ended, and tacked it to the memory of the christian
saint.

> ♦ ♦ » <

THE MUSIC OF HEAVEN.

There was a monastery once, and it had a nice garden, and
between the garden and a big forest there was only a rail-
ing that had a door in the middle of it A very pious
monk was sitting in the summer house of the garden one
evening, after saying all his prayers and his offices, and he
was pondering over different things in the psalms he was
after reading, and among the rest one saying that a thousand
years was in the sight of God only as a day. He pondered,
and he pondered, and he could not understand the words
at all, and while he was this way, a bird began to sing in
one of the trees just outside the garden. He never heard
anything like it in his life before, and it was just what he
supposed the melody made by angels to be. At last the
bird fluttered away to a tree further off, and the monk went
outside of the garden, not to lose any of the notes, and still
the bird moved further off, and still the monk followed it,

9

IjO THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

his whole soul and mind and memory all wrapt up in the
sweet music. He went into the wood about a quarter of a
mile, and he was as he thought about half an hour moving
that far, and he couldn't fancy heaven itself to have any-
thing more heavenly than the notes of the bird.

At last it stopped singing, and the poor man felt like
one just falling down on the earth out of Paradise. He
went back dismally, and when he came to where the paling
and the little door in it ought to be, there was a high wall,
and towers, and a big door, and a little one beside it. " Oh
dear ! " said the poor man, " am I dreaming, or what has
come over me 1 " He rang the bell and the little door was
opened. " What is your business f said the porter, a man
with a face and dress on him quite strange to the monk.
" My business, brother, is to go in, and say my prayers, and
go to bed/' " Go to bed ! You speak as if you belonged
to the place, and you a perfect stranger. Who are you 1 *
" Rather you tell me who are you 1 There was a garden
here half an hour ago, when I left it to follow a bird that
was singing heavenly music into the wood, and here I find
walls and gates where there was a paling between the
garden and the wood, and a strange porter, for I don't re-
member ever seeing your. face before/' Well, some of the
brothers that were going by, gathered round, and could
make no more of the business than the porter. They asked
him who was the abbot when he left the garden, and what
king reigned in the country, and shook their heads when
he mentioned their names. They thought they were speak-
ing with a man out of his mind, till at last one of them
said, " Let us bring him to Brother So-and-so. He's a hun-
dred and ten years old, and maybe he'll help us in our
puzzle.'' They brought him to the old brother through
passages and rooms he never saw before, they wondering
at his strange dress and he at theirs.

When the old, old man heard the story, he began to
speak. " Brothers, when I entered this monastery very
young, I often heard from an old brother, who was then as
old as I am now, that when himself was a novice the
oldest of the monks used to be telling of a brother So-and-
so that left the house one evening, and never was heard of

THE MUSIC OF HEAVEN. 1 3 I

again." " I am that poor lost brother," said the monk, " and
God has thus made me feel how a thousand years in His
sight are only as a day, a thing I was striving to understand
that evening. A thousand years listening to that bird of
heaven would not seem an hour to me. I have now lived
centuries beyond my time. Let me make my confession
and receive the last sacraments, for I think no further time
will be allotted me on earth." And it was so ; he died the
death of the saints that night.

The fairies are considered by archaeologists as the heirs
and descendants of the inferior pagan divinities, good and
evil. The demi-gods and demons were reduced to this
condition when heathenism was outwardly brought to an
end. However, the popular belief is that the fairies were
those angels who, at Lucifer's revolt, did not openly join
him, but felt a kind of sympathy with his wicked aspira-
tions. When the rebel angels were precipitated into hell,
these cowardly spirits fell no farther than the earth, on
which they are to remain till the day of judgment, uncer-
tain during the whole time whether they are to be par-
doned or condemned. Our own Irish fairies are the spirits
of the Danaan Druid chiefs, who, after their death, took
possession of the chief subterranean caverns throughout the
kingdom, and continued, according to their good or evil dis-
positions, to succour or injure the descendants of the Mile-
sians by whom they had been dispossessed. For further
information on the subject of the fairy kingdom the reader
is referred to the Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts ;
Macmillan, 1866. / oaat l£>3 )

> ♦ ♦ ♦ <

HOW DONN FIRINNE GOT HIS HORSE SHOD.

The oldest Sighe-Chiefof the Milesian line is Bonn Firinne,
the truth- telling king. He was the son of Mil£, or Milesius,
and when the Danaans raised a fog round the island, to
prevent the landing of him and his brothers Heber, Here-
mon, and Amhergin, he was shipwrecked on the Du chains,

9*

132 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

in West Munster, and there perished as to his mortal part.
The people to this day call these rocks Teach Duin (Donn's
House). He bestows his attention on the invisible concerns
of the whole kingdom, but resides in Knocfierna, near
Limerick, and when not presiding over the sumptuous
entertainments there furnished, he looks after the fairy
tribes of Thomond (North Munster) and Ormond, and oc-
casionally makes a raid at their head against the fairies of
Connaught, or Leinster, or South Munster. He is rather
patriotic, and friendly besides to native talent. In Croker's
Legends is given an address made to him by a poor poet,
whose verses seemed to be in no request by king or chief
of mortal mould. It begins thus : —

u Donn of the ocean vats, I give due reverence to thee."

Donn would not be a genuine Milesian spirit if ungifted
with combative propensities. A blacksmith near the leale
was one night wTakened up to put a shoe on the steed of a
noble-looking rider. He fashioned it without much delay,
but the great feat was to adjust and fasten it on. So
skittish and mettlesome were the mare's capers, that he
could not bring the iron convenience within a yard of its
appointed place. The master, after looking on for some
time, with grim amusement playing over his features,
quietly wrung off the lower portion of the leg, and pre-
sented it to the operator. Awe of the rider now unnerved
him as much as the tricks of the steed had done before,
but the stranger thus attempted to encourage him. " Don't
be frightened, but fasten in your nails. I am Donn Fir-
inne, and am conducting ten thousand of my forces to wage
battle and conflict against the fairies of Cork. My people
are awaiting me outside your door at this moment."

All this was far from putting the village Yulcan at his
ease; but, better or worse, he got through the job some way.
The version of the story accessible to us mentions the con-
clusion of the shoeing, the adjusting of the shod portion to
the rest of the leg by Donn, the shouting of the tribe when
they saw their chief emerging from the forge, and the speed
with which they escaped from the blacksmith's sight.
Donn seems to have been in such a hurry, that he omitted

HOW DONN FIRINNE GOT HIS HORSE SHOD. 1 33

to make any compensation to the black artist for his

trouble.

> ♦ ♦ ♦ <

CLIONA OF MUNSTER.
Cliona, the most powerful, and at the same time the
most wayward of the Munster fairies was daughter of the
terrible Ked-haired Druid who once threw a thick darkness
over a Northern force set in battle array against the South-
ern men, and thereby effected their defeat. Cliona and
Aoibhil (pron. EvilJ, were his daughters ; and Caoimh the
Pleasant (O'Keeffe), a neighbouring chief, was suitor for
the hand of the younger (Evil). Cliona happening to have
her affections set on Caoimh, brought a wasting sickness on
her sister, and at last the appearance of death, by the ad-
ministration of a narcotic. She was interred, but the spite-
ful Cliona had her conveyed to a cave at Castlecor, where,
under the appearance of a cat, she is still occasionally seen.
Her other quarters are at Carriglea, near Killaloe.

Cliona's Court is five miles south of Mallow, in a lonely
district : it consists of a rock in the centre of a circular
space, surrounded by other smaller ones, the whole enclo-
sure (about two acres) carpeted by the finest turf, and no
rocks interrupting the view for a considerable distance.
Belated travellers have seen Cliona and her troops holding
consultation here, or leading the dance round the delightful
enclosure. On winter nights frightful noises have been
heard from Carrig Cliona, and no peasant or peasantess
would enter or cross the eirie place after nightfall for any
consideration.

As Cliona was once disporting in the neighbourhood by
moonlight, under the appearance of a white rabbit, she was
espied and made captive by an unlucky farmer, who bore
her home, and kept her well secured. From the moment
of her unwilling entrance into the house misfortunes de-
scended in a storm upon the owner. Floods carried away
his stacks, his cattle were missing, and at last two of his
children lay on the bed of death. Within the space of a
week all were at their wit's end, till some one remarked on
the presence of the rabbit, and the beginning of their woes
as occurring on the same day. The hint was sufficient.

134 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

The unlucky animal was liberated, and the children reco-
vered. The strayed animals were found, ill-luck left the
place, and white rabbits were carefully avoided for the fu-
ture by every member of the family.

There was a " hurling" in the glen by the side of the
river Feale, and among the spectators were James Eoche
and his son John, a child of seven years old. Cliona came
out of the rock, unseen by any one in the crowd, and
throwing a cloak over the boy, she led him into her cavern,
and for fourteen years he was never seen by mortal. At
the end of that period he presented hiruself to the eyes of
his father, a full-grown young man, and while fear and joy
were struggling in the heart of the old man, he thus spoke :
" Dear father, I have been kept by Cliona in her rock for
fourteen years, and now she is obliged to let me be seen by my
family. If you cannot free me from her power in three
months, she will oblige me to marry a young woman whom
she stole when a child, and neither she nor I will ever again
enjoy the society of our kind. If you travel to the lower
part of Ireland, and persuade Kathleen Dhu, who lives by
the church of Clogher, to come with you, she can free me
from the enchantment in which I am held."

It was not long till the sorrowful father was on his jour-
ney, and after long travelling and much fatigue he was in
the presence of the dark witch. She was ill of a fever at
the time, but told him her daughter was equally powerful
with herself, and would return w7ith him if he would libe-
rally reward her. " There's nothing in my possession she
may ask," said he, " that I can refuse, if she free my son
from the Sighe."

So they set out, and in due time they arrived at his house.
"Get me now," said she, "the skin of a newly-killed sheep."
It was got, and dried, and the wool plucked off, and she
put it on as a cloak with the flesh side out ; and so she and
Koche presented themselves at the entrance of Carrig Cliona.
" Hail Cliona of the Carrig ! " said she. " A long distance
I came to see you, all along from the church of Clogher,
where the birds speak to the border of the foxes. If John, son

CLIONA OF MUNSTEE. 1 35

of James, has wedded the young woman of the Sighe, or
kissed her lips, woe and wrath shall light on him, and her,
and on their mistress, Cliona, daughter of the Red Druid."

At these threatening words Cliona came forth, and was
dismayed by the long coarse hair of the young witch that
fell to her hips, and by the cloak of raw hide, with horns,
legs, and all hanging about her. She had put a druidic charm
on her eyes, that even made the Sighe tremble. " Who are
you $" said she. " Are you Aoine, or Aoibhil of the Gray
Rocks, or Ana Cleir, come hither from Bemus, or a witch
westward from Beara V

" No, I am not of your race at all. 1 am of the Bollar
Beamish, and my brother is Slawbocht no Treamhie and the
Ruiddhera Rua, (Red Knight), from the harbour of Ben
Hedir (Howth). My other brother is Dorrin Deidh gal,
who can make the old young, and the young old, and raise
the dead out of the earth, and the Ard Righ of the Sliochd
Sighe of Erinn has given me the run of all the country, and
if I meet with refusal or evil treatment, he will come and
take sharp revenge for it."

Cliona was overawed by the wild appearance and the
threatening language of the daughter of Black Catherine,
and she gave up John, son of James, praying that the witch
might be nothing the better for her acquisition. But she
was the better, for when she flung off her raw cloak, and
her long head-covering of coarse horsehair, and stood be-
fore John, son of James, as a dark- eyed, beautiful young
woman, he said if she would not become his wife he would
return again to the Sighe of Cliona. The father gave his
consent, a little unwillingly ; but our authority has afforded
us no information on the subject of the subsequent house-
keeping of the young couple.

A loud noise as from the surging of a wave is occasionally
heard in the harbour of Glandore, county of Cork, both in
calm and stormy weather. It is the forerunner of the shift-
ing of the wind to the north-east. It is called the " Tonn
Cliona," or Cliona's wave, and was supposed in days gone
by to portend the death of a king or great chief.

J36 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

The much-lamented scholar and estimable man, Mr. John Windele
of Cork, furnished the editor of this work with the following bizarre
tradition : —

A BULLOCK CHANGELING.

In the famed kingdom of Kerry, and not far from Tralee,
stood the estate of Mr. Bateman, who, among other valuable
cattle, owned one fine bullock, not to be matched in the
seven neighbouring townlands for size and condition. But
all at once he unaccountably began to fall away, and at last
might be exhibited as a bovine living skeleton. All at-
tempts to put fat on his unfortunate ribs by oil or other
cake were fruitless, and at last Mr. Bateman gave him to
one of his tenants to convert him to any use he pleased.
He, knowing the folly of attempting to turn him to profit
while living, imagined his death instead, and sold him to a
Tralee butcher for little more than the value of his hide.
The honest flesher, wishing to realise at once, put his prize
in a suitable knocking-down position in his slaughter-house,
and, swinging his pole-axe, came down with a mighty blow
where he expected to find his head. But the selfish ani-
mal, at the moment the axe cut deep into the floor, was
cleaving the half door in good style, preparatory to a head-
long charge down the street. The battle-axe man, not
willing to be a loser, swept after him fully armed ; and the
neighbours, excited by his cries, and the pace of the ill-
favoured ox, joined in the pursuit. He kept his odds well ;
and when he came to the open gate of the demesne, he
dashed through, and galloped direct for the old lios. On-
ward came in hot haste men, and boys, and dogs, but the
more haste they made to come up, the less he seemed dis-
posed to allow them. He scampered furiously round the
fort, and by the time his pursuers arrived, hot and tired,
no bullock was to be seen. "While they were searching and
wondering, the genuine and original ox was seen to walk
out from behind a large bush, showing not the least incli-
nation for a game at " fox and hounds." This was one of
the few instances of an animal's being bona fide restored,
and without injury.

[ 137 ]

HOW JOHN HACKETT WON THE FKENCH PRINCESS.

John Hackett was a Minister outlaw, one of the many
who were put to their shifts after some of the old wars.
He was travelling towards Holy Cross when darkness came
on, and so he was benighted on the hill of Killoch, and de-
bating with himself how he should pass the night. Mean-
while he held on walking about to keep up some heat in
his body, when on a sudden he heard the sounds as of a
company of horse galloping towards him from the north,
but the noise they made only resembled the muffled sound
of a whisper. When they arrived within a few yards of
him, their chief cried out, "A steed and lance for John
Hackett. John, you have to come with us." " Where to,
sir P " I am the chief of the Sighes of Ely," said he, "and
am going straight to Paris to bring the daughter of the
King of France home with me. I cannot do it, however,
without human help, and you are my man. There is your
steed ; here is your lance ; mount !" " With all my heart,"
said John, " but I must visit Dublin on our way, and the
palace of the king of England when we are coming back."
" That will be a great delay, but if it is necessary, be it
so."

. John bestrode the steed, took the lance in his hand, and
in a few minutes they were at the door of his brother in
Dublin. He entered but would not stop to eat or drink.
He asked for a piece of parchment, ink, and a pen, and he
wrote out these words, " I grant my Royal pardon to John
Hackett of Munster."

He then joined his friends on the outside with his parch-
ment, his pen, and his inkhorn, carefully secured in his
clothes. They mounted their steeds, and as the next night
was beginning to close in, they were standing outside the
French King's palace.

They had made John invisible even as themselves, and
all went in, and passed through the guests, and took their
stations on mantel-pieces, and the backs of chairs, and
looked on at the dancing. The princess was sitting by her
father, and playing with a little spaniel, and enjoying the
sight of the dancing. " There is my bride elect," said the

138 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

fairy chief, u but I have no power while that spaniel is
about her. Secure him, John ; it is for that I brought you
here." John went behind the royal chair, stooped, reached
over his hand, and put the spaniel in his pocket. The same
moment three arrows were shot at the princess by the fairy
chief. She sneezed three times, fainted, and was immedi-
ately placed on a steed and borne away. What appeared
to be her dead body was left on the spot where she had
fainted, while she and Hackett and the rest were flying
over the sea to England.

When they came to the palace of the king, all the troop
but John remained in the cellar to refresh themselves, but
the princess continued still, without knowing what was
going on about her. John passed into the King's bed-
chamber, and walked up to his bed-side. "Hillo ! ho ! King
of Saxonland ! " said he, "awake ! " " Who dares disturb
me out of my sleep]" said the king. "It is I, John
Hackett of Munster, who asks your royal pardon and pro-
tection.?' " My protection to you will be the axe of the
executioner." " Then," said John, drawing his sword, " I
must be under the necessity of cutting off your Majesty's
head." " Oh, oh ! that is another thing ; open the door
and tell my attendants to bring me pen, ink, and parch-
ment." " And maybe, your majesty, the cord or the hatchet
besides. Here are the materials, only waiting for your
majesty's fingers."

His majesty signed his name \ John took the paper and
vanished, and after some slight refreshment in the cellar,
all took horse for Ireland, and in due time landed on the
same hill from which they had taken him.

" What am I to get now for my trouble % " said he.
M We'll fill your hat and pockets with gold." " I must
have the princess also." " Say you so ! You know what
our arrows can do." " And you know what this spaniel
can do," said he, taking it out of his pocket with one hand,
and laying hold on the sleeping lady with the other.

All uttered cries of fright, and in two seconds there was
not one of them to be seen. The princess awoke, and it
was long before she recovered from her sorrow to find her-
self in a strange land, and in company with a stranger. He

HOW JOHN HACKETT WON THE FRENCH PRINCESS. 1 39

soon conducted her to a comfortable shelter with his friends,
till he got possession of his own lands, and when her first
surprise and grief was over, she made him tell her all about
the carrying off. This he did, and at the end she liked him
better than at the beginning, and this day better than the
day before ; and it was not long until they were man and
wife in his own house and on his own lands.

When their second child was born, John said he'd go to
Paris and acquaint her parents ; and after some talking
over the matter she consented. She gave him a letter and
her scarf which she wore the night she was carried away.
They put him in confinement till trusty messengers were
sent to Ireland, and when these returned with the princess
and children there was great joy. John was made a great
lord, and if they didn't live happy that we may !

> ♦ ♦ ♦ <

When the housewife's daily cares are over, she may make
doors and windows as fast as she pleases ; but if she ne-
glects to stick the reaping hook in the thatch, or if she
does not loose the wheel-band, or tie the hand -reel with a
rush, or neglects to pour out the water that washed the feet
by the channel under the door, those treacherous allies of
the fairies will let them in.

THE FAIRY-STRICKEN SERVANT.
A travelling woman once got lodging in a farmer's house,
and was provided with a bed in the kitchen. The sluttish
servant-maid went to sleep in the settle, and was soon
snoring soundly. About midnight the strange woman heard
a tapping at the door, and a ghostly voice crying through
the key-hole, " Where are you, Feet- water ? " I am in
the tub, where I oughtn't to be." " Hand-reel, where are
you I" " Lying I am on the dresser." " Keaping-hook,
where are you V' " Lying loose on the floor." " Wheel-
band, where are you ¥' " Drawn tight round the rim I
am." "Feet-water, reaping-hook, hand-reel, and wheel-
band, let us in ?"

1 40 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

In came three wild-looking women to spend part of the
night in comfort \ but the turf had been allowed to burn
out, and the hearth was unswept and comfortless. Two
of them sat down, while the third searched dresser and
drawers for some food. But nothing was to be found ex-
cept a crust which the lodger had left for the good people
on a stool near her bed. She took it, and returned to the
hearth, and the three made a meal on it. " Ah, the neg-
ligent quean !" said one, who seemed the worst disposed of
the party : " I'll leave her something to remind her of her
negligence, and the only thing that can cure her is a poul-
tice of this bread, left out by that decent woman in the
corner. Let us not leave a crumb behind us." After saying
this, she lifted a bit of thread off the ground, and threw it
at the sleeper in the settle, and soon after all the company
went away. When they, were going out, the traveller,
keeping her eyes nearly closed, saw the most good-natured
of the three look at herself, and drop a few crumbs on the
floor. While the women stayed, there was a dull light
through the room, but the moment they left, all was as
dark as pitch.

In the morning, the moment the woman awoke, she got
up, and gathered the crumbs, and put them up carefully
in a bit of rag in her pocket. About three months after-
wards, she stopped another night in the same house. She
had scarcely sat down when the servant girl began to tell
her of a great swelling in her leg, that hindered her from
walking any distance, or standing up at all beyond a few
minutes : " and it's on me," said she, " since the very night
you were here last/' "Well," said the other, "let that
lam you to keep a sod of turf alive ail night, and sweep
up the hearth, and leave something to eat for the good
people when you don't throw out the feet-water, and stick
the reaping-hook in the thatch, and tie up the hand-reel,
and slack the spinning-wheel. If you'll promise to be
•more careful, maybe ourselves can do something for you."
" Oh, musha, do, and God bless you, and it's me that'll be
careful about what you say from JSTew Year's Day to New
Year's Eve." So the woman made a poultice with some
hot water and the dry crumbs, and put it to the girl's leg.

THE FAIRY- STRICKEN SERVANT. 141

It was not a minute on when the skin cracked, and a
whole skein of woollen thread worked itself out. You may
be sure that she gave herself tidier habits afterwards, and
that the wise woman was welcome to a comfortable bed
and a good supper and breakfast whenever she passed that
way.

> ♦ + ♦ <

THE FAIKY EATH OF CLONNAGOWAN.

In the townland of Clonnagowan, Queen's County, stands
a rath which, about forty years since, was studded with
old thorn trees. A Mr. Kinsella, to whom this, with the
surrounding lands, was leased, took it into his head that he
would grub up these ugly trees, make firewood of them,
and get a good crop of wheat out of the hitherto useless
circle. He was warned by the neighbours that if he at-
tempted to do so, the good people would make him suffer ;
for, time out of mind, one person or another had seen them
dancing, and holding their night festivals among these old
stunted thorns. Nothing could daunt him. He fell to
work, and began to grub up one of the trees, and had re-
moved the sods and earth round it when he was called off
on some pressing business. He was not able to resume
his labour in the rath that day ; and so at night he retired
to rest, with intent to be early at his task next morning.

About midnight he was wakened by some unusual
noises ; and on opening his eyes he found the room all
illuminated, though the moon was not yet shining, nor was
there an appearance of candle or lamp anywhere. By this
light he could see a score of little fellows in green frocks
and red caps, the latter shaped like the fox-glove bell or
the old Irish birredh. They began to move round the bed,
and point their ringers, and make frightful faces at him,
half the company moving one way, just close by the bed,
and the other half moving in the other direction, outside
them. He almost lost his senses in consequence of the
confusion of their movements, and the spiteful gestures
they were making. He attempted to roar out once or
twice, but could not utter a sound, and he could only look
and become more and more stupified and frightened.

I42 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

At last there was a pause, and the mischievous creatures
scattered themselves over the room, and seizing on every-
thing that came in their way, they piled them upon the
poor man, till he thought that the weight of the whole
house was crushing him 5 and so disturbed was his mind,
that he fancied the bed was pressing him down as well as
bearing him up ; and the eyes of the little fellows were
watching him through the legs of tables and chairs, and
shooting icicles of lire and ice into his brain. Then, lest
the weight should be too light, they would spring up on
the heap of furniture, and jump and prance till he could
feel the hard wood and iron piercing in between his ribs,
and squeezing his stomach flat on his backbone, and almost
crushing his bones to the marrow. He was not able after-
wards to tell how relief came to him. When he awoke in
the morning he found the different articles of furniture
each occupying its own place ; but his bones and muscles
felt so sore and bruised that he could hardly stir them ;
and his skin was blue, and purple, and black. The first
use he made of his tongue was to direct his sons to repair
to the rath, and put the removed clay and sods into their
places of yesterday morning. Perhaps it was owing to the
subsidence of the anger of the Duine Sighe, on witnessing
the reparation, that he speedily recovered from the effects
of his bruises, and his skin resumed its natural hue. We
are unable to say what appearance the rath now presents.
Near this village of Clonnagowan is the farm-house of
Clonnaquinn, the bawn of which lies directly in —

THE FAIRIES' PASS.

It is known that the hill-folk, in their nightly excursions,
and in the visits of one tribe to another, go in a straight
line, gliding as it were within a short distance of the ground ;
and if they meet any strange obstacles in their track, they
bend their course above them or at one side, but always
with much displeasure.

A farmer named Finglas, a stranger to the old ways of
the country, took this farm, and was not at all satisfied with
the accommodation offered by the old farm-house and yard.

the fairies' pass. 143

There was neither cow-house nor stable, except an excuse
for such conveniences at the end of the yard. He would
have new buildings made at the side, and dug out the foun-
dation at once ; but was warned that the Fairies' Pass lay
directly across the bawn, and that it would excite their
sovereign displeasure to find stable, or barn, or cow-house
in their way. Unhappily Finglas, though married to a
Eoman Catholic wife, was himself a benighted Presbyterian,
and as such, a contemner of all reverence due to the Good
People. But see the result of pretending to be wiser than
your neighbours. Scarcely were the buildings thatched,
and the cows and horses installed in their niches, when the
wisdom of the old people became evident. One animal after
another, without apparent cause, began to refuse its food,
languished, and died. In vain was recourse made to the most
skilful cattle-doctors. Their medicines proved naught, and
fairy men or women would have nothing to do with the de-
voted beasts ; they were on the Fairies' Path. Not until
three-fourths of his cattle were slain by the elf-bolts was
Finglas overruled, and at last persuaded to construct new
buildings at the end of the bawn.

Accounts of Banshees being easily met with in the works of Croker,
Keightley, Mrs. Hall, &c, the inquisitive are referred thereto for infor-
mation— the only one we mean to produce being, so to say, historical.

THE BANSHEE OF THE O'BRIENS.

Lady Fanshawe, whose husband was ambassador at the
Spanish Court in the reigns of the Charleses, First and Se-
cond, has left an account of an individual spirit of this class,
which was seen and heard by herself. Being on a visit at
the house of Lady Honora O'Brien, and having one night
retired to rest, she was awakened about one o'clock by a
noise outside one of the windows. She arose, withdrew the
curtains, and beheld, by the light of the moon, a female
figure leaning in through the open casement. She was of
a ghastly complexion, had long red hair, and was enveloped

144 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

in a white gown. She uttered a couple of words in a loud
strange tone, and then with a sigh, resembling the rushing
of a wind, she disappeared. Her substance seemed of the
consistence of dense air, and so awful was the effect pro-
duced on the lady that she fainted outright. Next day she
related to the lady of the house what she had seen, and the
news was received with no marks of surprise. " My cou-
sin," said she, " whose ancestors owned this house, died at
two o'clock this morning, and, as is the case with the rest
of the family, the Banshee was heard wailing every night
during his illness. The individual spirit who utters the
caoine for this branch of the O'Briens, is supposed to be
the ghost of a woman who was seduced and murdered in
the garden of this very house by an ancestor of the gentle-
man who died this morning. He flung her body into the
river under the window ; so the voice and appearance of
this waiter causes more terror than those o.f other spirits,
with whose grief there is no blending of revenge."

On one occasion, when the Bean Sighe of the Knight of
Kerry was heard announcing by her wail the approaching
demise of the chief, the merchants of Dingle, forgetting
their plebeian births and occupations, took it into their
heads to get frightened, lest the wild sounds should bode
the immediate departure of some of themselves. A native
poet, however, re- assured them in this wise : —

" At Dingle when the lament grew loud,
Great fear fell on the thrifty merchants,
But fear on their own account they need not ;
The Banshee wails not such as they."

TOM KIEKNAN'S VISIT TO FRANCE.

The above-named worthy was a servant boy who lived at
Ballydonoghue, near Tarbert. Being belated in the neigh-
bourhood of a so-called Danish fort, he heard considerable
noise within, and, coming close to the fence, he spied in a
comfortable nook at the other side a party which he always
afterwards described as fairies or witches, but could not tell

TOM KIERNAN S VISIT TO FRANCE. 1 45

which. At the conclusion of some (to him) unintelligible
ceremony, they pronounced the words Bruchas tha ussa one
after the other, and shot off through the air in a S. E. di-
rection. " A fine thing to be able to do/' said Tom.
" Bruchas tha ussa, if you go to that," and away he flew in
their train. All were soon in a wine-cellar in the south of
France drinking like kings or fishes. When they had
nearly emptied the entire of the vessels, they repeated the
same words as before, and all soared back to Ireland, leav-
ing the goblets behind. Tom, however, brought away his,
and next morning gave it up to his master, with a full ac-
count of the expedition.

Several years after, a French vessel anchored in Tarbert,
and the owner was entertained at the house of Tom's mas-
ter, who, to do honour to his guest, produced his finest ar-
ticles in plate, and among the others the captured goblet.
The guest stared hard, as well he might, at the vessel, and
eagerly asked his host how it had come into his possession.
He furnished the needful explanation as to its being given
up to him by Tom, and Tom's legend of its acquisition,'
which he by no means credited. " You may give entire
belief to his story," said the other, " for I remember dis-
tinctly the morning on which our wine-casks were found
empty and this goblet missing. We were nearly ruined by
that very drinking bout," said he, " and have scarcely yet
recovered. Let me, if you please, see the face of your Mon-
sieur Tom." This hero being introduced, the stranger gazed
on him for nearly three minutes as on one whose like he
should never see again. Before quitting the house, with his
lost property in his possession, he slipped a louis d'or into
Mr. Kieman's palm, and told him how happy he should be
to see him at his home in France, provided he made the
visit in the way familiar to ordinary mortals.

THE LOVE PHILTRE.— A Fact.

Nora, a healthy, bouncing young country damsel, but no
way gifted with beauty, registered a vow that she would be
the wife of young Mr. Bligh, a " half sir," that lived near.

10

146 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

The young fellow always spoke civilly and good-naturedly
to her, but after a year or two's acquaintance, Nora saw no
immediate sign of her vow being accomplished. She held
consultations with adepts in fairy and demon lore, and dis-
covered that the liver of a cat thoroughly black, white paws
excepted, was sovereign in the process of procuring a return
of love. Aided by her sister and another woman, researches
were made, the cat discovered, and slain, with accompani-
ments which we do not choose to particularize. The liver
was then carefully taken out, broiled, and reduced to an
impalpable powder.

In a day or two the gallant was passing by Nora's cottage,
and seeing her at the bawn gate he " put the speak" on her.
She, nothing loth, kept up the conversation, and after some
further talk, asked might she take the liberty of requesting
him to come in and take a cup of tea. He did not think
the better of her prudence for making the demand, but felt
he couldn't refuse without incivility. So he was set com-
fortably at table, and Nora soon filled his cup from a black
-teapot, which, in addition to some indifferent tea, contained
a pinch of the philtre. The guest began the banquet with
notions and intentions not very complimentary to his en-
tertainer; but when he took up his hat to walk home, he
was determined on setting her up as the mistress of his
heart and house. It is in the nature of this magic potion,
that if the dose is not repeated at intervals, the effect be-
comes weaker, and at length ceases altogether. Nora, aware
of this, renewed the administration at every visit, till his
infatuation became such that he announced to his family
and relations his immediate marriage with the cabin girl.
Vain were coaxings, threats, reasonings, etc. ; and at last the
eve of the wedding-day arrived. Paying a visit to his
charmer that happy evening, they were enjoying the most
interesting and delightful conversation, when the latch was
raised, and a party of seven or eight young fellows, armed
with good hazel rods, entered and began to lay thousands
on his devoted back and shoulders. Nora flung herself be-
tween, and received a few slight blows ; but before they
ceased practising on the amorous youth, every bone in his
body was sore, and he himself unable to use arms or legs.

THE LOVE PHILTRE. 147

That was what they wanted. They trundled him into a
car, and took him home, where he was tended and watched
for a month. The drug not being administered all that
time, he was amazed when he was able to quit his bed that
he should ever have been guilty of such an absurdity. So
to Nora's remorse for the unholy proceeding was now added
chagrin at her want of success.

It is probable that some of the fairy fictions were the
manufacture of scape -graces, who, to cover their neglect on
certain occasions, got themselves out of disgrace by the in-
vention of some wild adventures that had befallen them.
An instance occurred to our own knowledge of a little boy,
who, being sent for a pitcher of water at noon, did not re-
turn till past sunset, and then saved himself from dis-
cipline by a recital of a most dangerous ride on the back of
the pooka, who had got between his legs while he was fill-
ing his jug.

THE POOKA OF BALTRACY.

Young Pat Davidson of this townland was sent by his
grandmother for a pitcher of water about one o'clock in the
afternoon, but it was not till sunset that the truant, whose
absence had caused great disquietude in the interim, was
seen coming up the meadow from the side of the wood
where the well lay. He seemed much fatigued, and various
rents were visible in his clothes, and scratches on his naked
legs. His overjoyed grandmother went down the path to
meet him, but she took good care to dissemble her feelings.
She looked at him with lowering brows, winding the strings
of herpraskeen [apron] the while round that useful article,
presently to do the duty of a whip. " You villian o' the
world ! " was her first greeting, " what kep' you till now ?
where were you loitering V " Oh, granny honey, it's well
you ever seen me again ! look at me clothes, an' me poor
legs ! " " Why, child, what happened you V1 " Musha, an'
wasn't it the Pooka happened me : the curse o' Cromwell

10*

I48 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

on him ! Just as I was stoopin' down at the well to fill the
jug, what did I see but his ears and his neck comin' out
betune me legs, and before I had time to bless meself, off he
was with me through the wood, knockin' me head again' the
boughs, an' tearin' me legs again the brush till we got
through, an were out in the fields. Oh, granny, such spon-
shees as he made over ditches and rivers, and so 'fraid as I
was that I'd be thrown every moment ! Well, at last, where
were we chargin' "but at the house where aunt Bessy lived,
and that the roof is off [whose roof is off]. He run full
plump up to it, and when I was expectin' to have me head
broke again' the wall, there we wor thro' the winda, and
never crack cried till we got to Cloncurry. Well, there he
put his ugly nose to the ground, and kicked up his hine legs,
thinkin' to have me down in less than no time, but I held
to the mane like vengeance, an' gripped his sides wud me
knees. He turned back there and give me the same Jceerhau-
lin9 till we got to the well again, and then he pitched me off
like a sack of whate; an', granny honey, isn't it a mercy that
you ever seen me again V " Oh musha, my poor paustha
[child, pais], but it's grateful I am that the divel of a pooka
wasn't allowed to murdher you. Come in alanna ! " etc.

The winged words of this story soon went through the
townland, and when Pat presented himself at school next
day the faithless master began to question the hero on the
particulars of his ride. The youth, either discomposed by
the cold glances of the judge's eyes, or rendered by the
terror accompanying the exploit incapable of exact recollec-
tion, was found to vary from himself in some essential par-
ticulars, and the result was a severe liaising. After some
time, when the wounds were ceasing to smart, and the mas-
ter's back was turned, an urchin had the ill nature to jeer
him for telling such a bare-faced lie to his grandmother
about the pooka. " Oh the sarra pooka you," said he,
" if you were there, an' saw granny lookin' so vicious, an'
twistin' her praskeen to leather you, you'd invent a worse
thing yourself."

>-o^~«*-<

The ensuing legends cannot in strictness be classed under
our general title, as they possess only local interest. How-

THE ENCHANTED CAT OF BANTRY. 1 49

ever, there are none among them which are not popular in
some part of the country, and therefore they are considered
worthy of a place in our collection.

THE ENCHANTED CAT OF BANTRY.

Long ago, after the English first came to Ireland, there were
continual fights and skrimmages between themselves (their
great strength was down in the baronies of Forth and Bargy ),
and the people in the upper part of the country, who would
have no rulers except the old royal blood of Leinster, the
O'Cavanaghs. Parties from each side would drive away
cattle from their enemy, and kill the owners if they resisted.
A little bodach of the English side that lived off towards
Ballinvegga came in the dead of the night with a boy of
his to a lonesome house somewhere near the Glounthaan,
killed the poor owner and some of his family, and drove
away all the cattle that were in the place, and that was only
a cow and a sheep. But mind, when they were getting
home they found themselves pursued, and had no way to
save their lives but by breaking into a chapel. I don't know
whether it was the one at Rathgarogue or Temple Udigan .

When the crowd went by, and they were relieved of their
fright, they began to feel hungry. So they killed the sheep,
and were roosting a quarter of it at a fire they made out of
old coffin boards, when a big cat with blazing eyes came in
through the wall, and miawed out, " Shone feol/" [Is uaiin
feoil, flesh is from me, i.e. I want flesh]. They were so
frightened they gave him the quarter that was roasting.
When he ate it he licked his chops and roared out again,
"Shone feol I " and so on till he gobbled up all the sheep
and three quarters of the cow. Hoping that he'd leave them
a bit for themselves, they were boiling a piece of the beef
over the fire in the cow's hide, stuck up on four stakes with
some water in the hollow, but he bawled out more vicious
than ever, when all the rest was down the red lane, "Shone
ftolf"

Well, they gave him the piece that was simmering, and
while he was aten it they got out and were making the road

I^O THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

home as fast as they could. They were not a quarter of a
mile away when the moon happening to show her face, the
bodach's boy cried out, " Master, master, the cat is sitting
on the crupper behind you." He turned round and was so
wild with fright and anger, that he pushed at the tormen-
tor with his pike over his left shoulder, and whether he was
killed or not, down to the ground he came. Ovoch! in a
moment you'd think all the cats from Blackstairs to Carrig-
byrne were round them, and before they could look round,
the boy and his horse were down, and the wild creatures
tearing them limb from limb. The master set spurs to his
horse while they were at their work, and never cried crack
till he was inside his own bawn and the gate locked. He
was more dead than alive when he got in, and couldn't tell
what happened him for ever so long. At last he began to
give his wife an account of what happened, but when he
came to the blow he made with the pike and the tumble of
the cat, a kitllcn only half a year old that was sitting on
a boss screamed out, " Oh, you thief did you kill my uncle V
and without another word she flew at his throat, and tore
out a piece the size of her own head. If he hadn't gone on
a murdering business, his wife wouldn't be a widow from
that day to the last one of her life.

> » ♦ ♦ <

Visitors to the Devil's Glen are so occupied with its savage beau-
ties, that they rarely give themselves the trouble of inquiring how the
rough defile came to be so called. Father Domenech obtained the fol-
lowing legend on the subject in his sojourn among the Wicklow hills.

HOW THE DEVIL'S GLEN GOT ITS NAME.

Long ago the deep and rugged glen was merely a long low
hill, with many trees scattered over its surface. In its
neighbourhood was a convent, the ladies of which, espe-
cially the novices, would enjoy the free air under the shades
of these trees; and to the extreme annoyance of many
young princes and chiefs, the lovely Aoife, daughter of a
neighbouring magnate, entered the convent as a postulant
£jr the veil. Young aspirants to the hand of the insensible

HOW THE DEVILS GLEN GOT ITS NAME. 1^1

princess came from near and far, to endeavour to shake her
resolution. The rules of the convent not being strict, it was
not difficult to gain sight and hearing of the princess, but
every suitor left the house with a civil and decided refusal.

Among the crowd of rejected who occasionally saun-
tered in company under the trees on the slope of the
neighbouring hill, and administered such consolation to
each other as they could afford, was an ardent young prince,
whose voice joined in most musically with the united cho-
rus of the praisers of the fair recluse. Being frequently
annoyed by the mocking expression on the countenance of
a dark-visaged man among the suitors, when the rest were
loudest in their eulogies, he at last civilly asked him did
not the princess deserve even warmer encomiums than what
she had as yet received. "There is no woman in Erin,"
said he, " who would not be won from what she considers
right conduct, by manly beauty or profuse riches." " Prin-
cess Aoife would be proof to both," said the youth. " Be
at the entrance of the convent to-morrow at noon, and I will
convince you of your mistake. She shall be subjected to
the influence of beauty to-morrow ; if that fails, gold shall
be tried next day."

As the prince was sitting sadly enough on a stone before
the gate at the hour appointed, he heard the sound of horns
executing an enchanting melody, and beheld a mounted
chief approaching, from whose jewel- covered dress light
flashed at every step of his steed. His face and form were
those of a beautiful and well-formed youth, and his retinue
wore the most costly clothing. As he passed the prince, he
said to him in the tones of his yesterday's acquaintance,
" I am going to try the constancy of your adored princess.
If you choose, you may enter among my train."

The prince endeavoured to shout " treachery " at the top
of his voice, but an attendant touched him with a wand
which left him powerless to move or speak. There he re-
mained till the glittering youth came out again, rather hum-
bled this time. " Beauty has failed for once," said he.
" Gold must exert its power to-morrow." When the train
had passed out of sight, the prince recovered his faculties.

At a high point on the hill was an old stone cross, and

I j 2 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

near it was the issue of a spring, but the neighbourhood
was marshy, and the course of the little brook scarcely dis-
cernible with naggers, and rushes, and shrubs encumbering
the banks. As the prince mournfully sat and ruminated at
the foot of the old cross, he at last fell asleep. During his
slumber a beautiful form clothed in white flowing robes,
and her long hair encircled by a wreath of shamrocks, ap-
peared to him, u I am the Sighe," said she, " to whom the
care of this stream is intrusted, and I wish that it should
dance and sparkle in the sunshine, and that the sounds of
its ripples and falls should come to the ears of man and
woman. You can accomplish this for me, and punish the

demon who seeks to turn Aoife from her duty by "

What followed seemed to be felt by his inward thoughts
without meeting his ears.

Next day, as he sat on the stone, there came by the hand-
some and richly-clad youth, with slaves and horses laden
with gold and precious stones, and behind and beside the
treasures the same richly-dressed train which had been in
attendance the day before. This time the prince entered to
witness the conference. The gold, and diamonds, and pearls
had no more effect on the right-minded Aoife than the su-
pernatural beauty of the wooer. He begged and prayed,
but in vain, and he fell into such agitation, that his tail es-
caped from under his sparkling tunic, and began to lash
about him in fury. This was what the prince was waiting
for. He flung his praying chaplet round it, and the demon
gave such a spring as took him out over the court, and on
to the green hill-side. He sped to the spring, but the shade
of the stone cross was on it, and he dared not come near.
Overcome by the power of the sacred talisman, he flung
himself down, and rolled about in agony, tearing away the
soil and stones, and flinging them far on each side.

Thus he burned, and tore up, and flung out earth and
rocks for the entire length of the present glen, when tho
prince, seeing no further impediment to the free course of
the stream, relieved him of the torturing beads. When re-
leased, he turned on his tormentor to tear him to pieces, but
a glance at the chaplet sent him through the air fleeter than
the stone hurled from a sling.

HOW THE DEVILS GLEN GOT ITS NAME. 1^3

The fairy had now the joy of seeing her stream soon in-
creased to a goodly river, leaping from ledge to pool, and
rejoicing in its course in the free air and sunshine.

If the prince did not persuade Aoife to he his "bride, she
induced him to "become a monk in the neighbouring monas-
tery. When God really calls, it is sinful not to obey.

>♦♦♦<:

One of the most beautiful of the Ossianic legends relates the carry-
ing away of the poet to Tir-na-n-Og out under the waters of the
Atlantic, his return to the earth after a century had elapsed, and the
loss of his strength and manly beauty on his touching the earth.

All this shall be told in our succeeding volume. Meanwhile we pro-
ceed to show the connection which our story-tellers established between
our national saint, our national poet, and Cashel Cathedral, though
St. Patrick never superintended the laying on of one row of its stones,
and Oisin was in his grave about a century and a half before the holy
man commenced his labours. The building stands on an isolated rock
in a plain, and if our peculiar authorities are to be relied on, that large
mass of stone was bitten out of a mountain westward by the devil in
one of his fits of evil temper. Flying away with it between his teeth,
he was obliged by some holy personage to drop it into its present posi-
tion, to be a stance for the future sacred building.

THE ROCK OF CASHEL.
When St. Patrick was building the great church on the
Bock of Cashel, the workmen used to be terribly annoyed,
for whatever they put up by day was always found knocked
down next morning. So one man watched and another
man watched, but about one o'clock in the night every
watcher fell asleep as sure as the hearth-money. At last
St. Patrick himself sat up, and just as the clock struck one,
what did he see but a terrible bull, with fire flashing from
his nostrils, charging full drive up the hill, and pucking
down every stone, stick, and bit of mortar that was put to-
gether the day before. " Oh, ho ! " says the Saint, " I'll
soon find one that will settle you, my brave bull/' Now,
who was this but Usheen (Oisin) that St. Patrick was striv-
ing to make a good Christian. Usheen was a very crooked
disciple. When he was listening to pious reading or talk,
his thoughts would be among the hunters and warriors of

154 THE FrRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

his you tli, but hejoved the good Saint for his charity to
himself. The day after St. Patrick saw the bull, he up and
told Usheen all about what was going on. " Put me on a
rock or in a tree," says Usheen, " just by the way the bull
ran, and we'll see what we can do." So in the evening he
was settled comfortably in the bough of a tree on the hill-
side, and when the bull was firing away up the steep like a
thunderbolt, and was nearly under him, he dropped down
on his back, took a horn in each hand, tore him asunder,
and dashed one of the sides so hard against the face of .the
wall, that it may be seen there this day, hardened into
stone. There was no further stoppage of the work ; and in
gratitude they cut out the effigy of Usheen riding on his
pony, and it may be seen inside the old ruins this very day.
I think the black fellow did not covet a second visit from
Usheen.

A person pretending to have been on the rock, says there
is a rude mark, as of the side of an ox, on the outside of
one of the walls, and a knight mounted on a diminutive
quadruped in bas-relief within.

THE TREE OF THE SEVEN THORNS ON THE CURRAGH.

During the great plague and famine of 1439, there lived in
a castle near this hill one of the powerful O'Kellys. He
had several sons, of whom Ulick was his chief favourite.
The father was a hard-hearted, proud, and selfish man, and
the handsome Ulick was a compound of pride and licen-
tiousness. He had brought many young women to ruin
without scruple or remorse. Among these was the beauti-
ful and graceful Oonah More, whose lot was not so very
wretched, as she sincerely repented of her sin, and devoted
her remaining life to the solace and relief of the poor crea-
tures attacked by the pestilence. Her brothers, who ten-
derly loved her, and were keenly alive to the disgrace in-
flicted on the family honour, were on the point of seeking
out the betrayer and putting him to death, when they heard
that Providence had anticipated them. Ulick was seized

THE TREE OF THE SEVEN THORNS. 15J

with the pestilence, and in spite of his wretched father's
remonstrances and prayers, removed in his hed to the side
of a field fence by his brothers. A shed was fixed over him
to keep out the rain and the sun, and a pitcher of water and
a griddle cake, marked with a cross, were left by his side.

Oonah heard of his pitiful state, and whether her Chris-
tian compassion was influenced by former feelings or not,
she came to his bedside, administered all the solace in her
power, and supplied every little convenience that might
alleviate his sufferings. Before her coming, his cries and
complaints were heard fields away, but from her first visit
no groans nor cries escaped him but such as were wrung
from him by excessive torture. For days and days she at-
tended on him, and succeeded, let us hope, in awakening
his soul to the sense of his past guilt, and the necessity of
true contrition.

One day the poor girl was observed sitting motionless,
with her face turned towards the bed. Scaldcrows were
flying about the shed and attempting to enter it, but were
continually driven away by a milk-white bird . When a
couple of days had gone by, and she was still seen in the
same position, and the carrion crows attempting to enter
under the shed, and the white bird still driving them away,
the neighbours drew near and called to her to come home.
But her soul had gone to its home in heaven.

They placed her body beside that of the repentant sinner,
they set fire to shed and all, and from the ashes sprung the
" Tree of the Seven Thorns/' which remained to modern
times. On its branches a white bird was continually utter-
ing melancholy notes, and never stirring from its perch at
the approach of man or woman.

LEGEND OF THE LOVER'S LEAP, IN THE DARGLE.

Mary, a capricious damsel of this neighbourhood, showed
some preference to one of her lovers named Edward, while
she was really attached to another. The first displayed
perhaps too much devotion to herself, and too much atten-
tion to her slightest wishes. One day she expressed a de-

1$6 ' THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

sire for a certain kind of necklace, and Edward said he would
at once start to Dublin for it. She told him not to fatigue
himself, and not to think of returning that day. He was
too anxious to gratify his lady with the sight of the orna-
ment, and to display his own zeal, to allow himself such
indulgence. Late the same evening he was hurriedly pa-
cing along the bank high over the Dargle towards her house,
when on a mossy hillock he discovered her listening, with
every sign of loving interest, to the discourse of the secretly
favoured rival. He took out the necklace, laid it on the
grass before the frightened false one, walked rapidly to the
edge of the overhanging rock, and plunged down, smashing
bushes and shrubs in his descent.

However the young girl afterwards employed herself,
the dismal clang of the funeral bell of her destroyed lover
never left her ears. She took an intense dislike to the man
for whom she had deceived him, and by dint of ever dwell-
ing on his tragic fate she became insane. She haunted the
fatal spot, and at last, being under the strong delusion of
seeing her lover beckoning to her from the opposite side of
the ravine to come to him, she sprung from the fatal spot
and perished. Her spirit is still seen on the eve of St. John
traversing the fatal locality in the form of a milk-white fawn.

THE DISCOVE11Y OF MITCHELSTOWN CAVES.

Here is a legend which has already grown up round the
Kingston caverns, discovered some thirty-five years since.

A poor man, named Gorman, who laboured on the Kings-
ton estate between Cahir and Mitchelstown, observed one
day while quarrying, that, according as he loosed the stones
they fell into an underground cavity. Scrambling down
after them he became the discoverer of these caves, the
finest yet discovered anywhere. So much for the ground-
work; now for the embellishments. Gorman was a model
of a lazy philosopher of the cottier class. One day, when
he was pretending to be weeding his potato-plot, he heard
the bleating of a sheep, but there was neither sheep nor

THE DISCOVERY OF MITCHELSTOWN CAVES. t^J

grass within the field. Examining diligently around he came
to an opening, and getting down through it he found a poor
sheep suffering with a broken leg. He lifted her up care-
fully, brought her to his cabin, and was about making mut-
ton of her ; but she looked so pitifully in his face that he could
not find it in his heart to draw her blood. His wife wash-
ed and tied up the limb, gave her provender, and the poor
animal soon could use the leg. In time she had two lambs.
The wool of the sheep and lambs resembled silk, and brought
four times the price of ordinary wool ; and in a reasonably
short time their lazy master became a comfortable farmer.
The venerable great grandmother who had brought this
luck into the family was grown old and useless, and it en-
tered the head of the ungrateful Gorman to kill her for St.
Martin's day. In vain his better dispositioned wife strove
to dissuade him from the thankless act. Kill her he would
next day. The morning came, and with it came the young
herd to Gorman's bedside. " Get up, master/' said he,
" every sheep on the pasture has gone away, and not a cru-
been of them can I find anywhere." Up he jumped and put
on his clothes, and to the fields with him without saying a
prayer, or even blessing himself. After a long chase he
came up with the sheep and drove them home ; but as they
passed the hole from which he had taken the first of them,
every one of them slipped into it, and he might as well have
thought of catching'last years snow as gripping one of their
fleeces. Down after them he went, but he found all empty,
and when the neighbours joined him with dipped rushes
and /angles [lighted cones of banded straw, the French
faineul], and looked about, they found the beautiful caves
with their alabaster pillars and ornaments. The sheep were
lost for ever.

LORD CLANCAHTY'S GHOST :

A LEGEND OF BLARNEY CASTLE.

A modern proprietor of Blarney Castle took the liberty of
cutting down various old trees which had shed honour on
the grounds for centuries. Having received the price of them

IjS THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

in Cork, he returned home wet and weary, ate a hearty din-
ner in the " King of Sweden's room," warmed his inside
with a couple of tumblers of hot punch, and with the feel-
ings of a man who had done a good action, betook himself
to his arm-chair to enjoy a sleep.

At midnight he awoke and rung for his body-servant,
Thady, and immediately after, heard a heavy and stately
step on the grand stair-case. Looking towards the door, he
saw a gentleman enter in the costume of James IL's Court,
holding a gold-headed cane in his hand. He ceremoniously
saluted the proprietor, advanced to the window, and sor-
rowfully contemplated the trunks of the tine old trees cum-
bering the ground.

After a while, the last Lord Clancarty (for it was his
ghost) approached the frightened " sleeper awakened,"
looked down on him sadly and sternly, and pointed with
his cane towards the dismal scene abroad. He then stamp-
ed on the floor and vanished. At the same moment the
castle shook, the bells began ringing, and every piece of
furniture in the room fell down. The poor man was co-
vered up with a mass of articles, and there he lay till
morning. Thady then entering, cried out for help. Help
came, and with some trouble the servants disencumbered
the body of the poor man ; and, by a good deal to do, he
was brought to consciousness, the ghost not intending his
death. However, he never ate another dinner, nor slept
another night in Blarney Castle.

From among local narratives of adventurers who brave the rage of
guardian cats, and hounds, and serpents, in pursuit of buried trea-
sures, we select one adventure which we have from oral authority.

THE TREASURE SEEKERS OF MAYNOOTH.

It is said that under the ruins of Maynooth Castle may
be found a cave from which a subterraneous passage ex-
tends to the old church-yard of Borreheen, some three
miles distant. Rich treasures are reported to lie within

THE TREASURE SEEKERS OF MAYNOOTH. 1 59

this cave ; and some sixty years ago a dozen young men,
one of whom was lately alive, and related the exploit to
our informant, set to work to clear away the rubbish from
the entrance of the cavern. They worked away for two
nights, withdrawing every morning before the daylight
should reveal their proceedings ; and after unheard-of toil,
sinking a shaft, and then burrowing horizontally, they ef-
fected an opening into the vault. Just as they were clear-
ing away the last obstacle, they found a piece of an ancient
candle of an unhealthy yellowish hue, and a few minutes
later the breach was effected. A violent current of air then
rushed forth and extinguished all their candles. It brought
such a clayey sickly smell with it that they nearly fainted.
They lighted the candles again, but they were again blown
out on the instant. At this point of the proceeding, their
sentinel, who kept watch on upper earth, announced the
approach of light, and all agreed to separate till welcome
darkness fell on the old castle again. One of the party,
however, remained in the neighbourhood of their burrow,
to do what he could in case of the mining operation being
discovered. As ill-luck would have it, an unbribable fol-
lower of the Duke's came in his rambles through the ruins,
and stumbled on the fresh clay and the passage. He
made no delay in apprizing his master of the fact, and he
at once set a sufficient number of hands at work, to fill up
the aperture again. This was a great blow to the adven-
turers, who had been sure of getting at the hoard early in
the ensuing night. A watch wTas kept for some time after-
wards, to prevent any more tunnelling. The man who
brought home the candle remained convinced in mind,
that if they had lighted it they would have gained the
spoil. He lighted it several times, and from the rate at
which it burned he calculated that it wrould have held out
for a week. This is a sufficiently flat tale of treasure-seek-
ing, but in the writer's judgment it is true in all its main
points.

l6o THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

THE ORIGIN OF LOCH ERNE.

At some early period of Irish history, the region now co-
vered by this beautiful sheet of water was inhabited by
very wicked people. They were supplied with water from
a fine well sunk deep in the earth, and the upper part was
surrounded by a handsome circular frame of stonework.
A benevolent fairy king or queen had favoured the earlier
inhabitants by the grant of this spring- well, and the only
conditions were that they shonld never leave it uncovered.
The descendants of these good people proved a wicked race ;
and after many years their destruction approached. As a
woman who lived near the spring was filling her earthen
vessel one evening, she heard her child, who had been left
in the cradle, cry out pitifully. Forgetting the fairy's in-
junction, she snatched up her pitcher and ran home ; and
instant attention to the infant's wants, and afterwards some
pressing household concerns, put all connected with the
well out of her mind. Towards morning the inhabitants of
the valley were awakened, one after the other, by the chilly
plash of water rising round them as they lay on their beds.
Many were unable to escape at the low doors, as the surface
of the flood was already on a level with the lintels. All
the children and aged people perished ; and the legend does
not inform us whether the few vigorous sinners who suc-
ceeded in effecting their escape reformed their lives or not.
At the next rising of the sun his rays no longer fell on
houses, and gardens, and fields, but flashed instead on the
smooth surface of a long inland sea.

THE DEATH OF THE RED EARL.

The ruins of Athassel (Ath Caisiol, castle at the ford),
stand where once flourished an extensive monastery. There
was a subterranean passage which conducted from it to
Castlepark on the other side of the Suir ; and when the
monastery was invested in the old troublous times, and
the inmates obliged to have recourse to this means of es-
cape, the most advanced of the fugitives were some distance

THE DEATH OF THE RED EARL. l6l

on the east side of the river when the last were only quit-
ting the building. At this point, the abbot, who was among
the vanguard of the party, missed his richly-bound illumi-
nated breviary. There was no occasion, however, for any
one to return. The word wras passed from front to rear,
and in a few minutes, the book being searched out by the
last man, was transferred from hand to hand till it reached
its owner.

In time the building and its dependencies became the
property of De "Burgho, the Red Earl, who was about as
tyrannical and as uncharitable a nobleman as ever trod on
Irish soil. One day a poor creature accosted him at his
gate, and begged for relief, as he was nearly perishing for
hunger and thirst. He spoke harshly to the beggar, and
bade him begone. " At any rate," said he, " allow the
servants to give me a draught of milk." " No." " Well,
water/' " Sot even water : the river is not far — go and
drink as much as you like from it." " Ah, then, my lord,
as great as you hold yourself now, it might happen that
you may perish yet for want of a drink of cold water."
The earl called his dogs, and set them on the poor man,
but they could not be induced to worry him ; and he saw
by the faces of those about him that they were far from
approving his harshness : so he turned into the courtyard.

Several years went by ; and on a very warm summer
evening the Earl found himself all at once very ill, and
afflicted with a violent thirst. He stretched himself on his
bed after some efforts to bear up against the attack, and
requested a draught of wine. All the vessels in the beau-
fet were examined, and not a drop found. The servant
thought that very strange, as he had seen abundance of it
there just after dinner. " Go to the cellar/' said the earl,
" and be quick about it." The poor fellow soon returned
with great fright on his features, but his flagon empty
" How's this I" cried the choking man ; " where' s the wine]"
" My Lord, there's not a drop to be got from a single barrel,
and they sound as empty as drums." The angry master
swore at the unfortunate man, and ordered two of his
fellows to go down, and not return without a drink for him.
His thirst became so terrible, that before they could return,
he dispatched others to the spirit casks. Still another de-

1 62 THE FIRESIDE STORIES OF IRELAND.

lay. If he was able he would have followed them with a
whip ; but his limbs were powerless, and he was suffering
dreadful agony from excessive heat and thirst inside. " Go,"
said he, as well as he could, " and let me have even a drink
of milk." Off went one or two more, but they were in no
haste to return. At last one was hardy enough to put in
his head and say, uAh, my lord! the dairy vessels are
empty, and not a drop can be got from the cows." He
was now in the most extreme terror and rage, but after ut-
tering the word " water" with the greatest pain and diffi-
culty, he could not get out another syllable.

Several ran off at the moment to the Suir, which lay a
short distance to the east of the castle ; but when they
came to the bank, the bed of the stream was as dry as the
hearth where a fire has just been burning. Several had
joined the party, and all wTere in wild confusion. They
threw up their hands, they ejaculated, they prayed, they
were at their wits' end. On a sudden they heard a noise
like the murmuring of a river on the west side of the castle.
Off they ran, and found a newly-made channel ; but the
sound of the rushing wTater gradually growing faint, ceased
altogether, and they only caught a glimpse of the last shal-
low ripples making their escape down the slope when they
reached the margin. Some rushed after the retreating
treasure, but it was too speedy for them. Again they
paused ; and now the rush and gurgle were heard in the old
channel. Back they sped to find it dry, and to get anew
the sound of the flow from the west side. Half of the
crowd returned to the other course, and they all heard the
rush of the river somewhere between them. They ran, each
in the direction of the other body, and now they filled
their vessels with ease from the welcome stream. They
raised a shout, and ran to the castle ; as they entered they
heard their joyful cries answered from the dairy, from the
byres, and from the cellars. The dying man heard the joy-
ful tumult rushing up the turret stairs, and as the earliest-
arrived entered the chamber, they beheld the convulsed
features of their master in the last agony. His looks were
eager, and he made a feeble motion towards them with his
arm ; but before the bed was reached, the arm had dropped
motionless, and his sufferings in this life were over.

[ t63 ]

NOTES AND ILLUSTKATIONS.

Hairy Eouchy ; p. 3.

The ch in the surname of this heroine must get a guttural sound as
in all Irish words where it occurs, c and G never get the soft sound
which belongs to them in such English words as rancid, gem, &c. In
the tying of the three smalls, her waist, her wrists, and her legs above
the ancles were secured.

In several of the household narratives of Teuton and Celt there
was a profusion of bloodshed, and very small regret for maiming or
killing outright. Were our labours of a purely archaeological nature,
we should not spare our readers a single horror of the many with which
this class of fireside traditions abound. But we prefer cultivating for
our little selection a popularity among folk whose joys are many, and
years few, and to whom even the rough Juvenal declared that the
greatest reverence should be paid. Therefore let our critics forgive
us for using some of our materials with reserve, and relating deeds of
cutting, thrusting, and gashing "with a difference."

Some forms of this present tale are of a decidedly truculent charac-
ter. There is a variety of it in Campbell's West Highland Tales
under the title of Maol a Chliobain, and another in Dasent's Norse
Tales, where the heroine is called Tatterhood.

The professional story-tellers delighted in verbal repetitions at dif-
ferent points of the story, nor did even the good Homer despise them.
They afforded intervals of rest. Economy of space is essential to our
design and therefore we cannot indulge in them. However, when
these stories are read out for children it will be found advisable to give
all these repetitions without stint. The MishS of the heroine will re-
mind scholars of the Outis [no one] of Odysseus.

A Legend of Clever Women ; p. 9.

The original compiler of this tale probably intended to question the
wisdom of folks who delight in working out simple ends by compli-
cated and difficult processes, such as that of promoting the happiness
of a country by getting five-eighths of its able-bodied men killed in
battle, or by the ordinary hardships of warfare. It is found in German
collections under the titles — Kluge Else [Clever Bessy], Klugen Leute
[Clever People], and Der Frieder und das Catherlieschen. Campbell
tells it in his " West Highland Tales " under the title The Three Wise
Men, and in another form as Sgire mo Chealag, which may be inter-
preted " The Parish of my Darling ; " it is also to be found in Gerald
Griffin's Works. The Italian Tale, Bardiello, belongs to the same
class.

1 64 NOTES.

The Twelve Wild Geese, p. 14.

The grouping of the white snow, the black raven, and the red blood,
was put in requisition at an early period of story-telling. It is found
in the old Cymric tale of Peredur, the original of "Sir Percival of the
Round Table,'1 also in the old Irish tragic tale of "The Sons of Uis-
neach," from which MacPherson extracted Darthula. The German
counterparts are Die Zwolf Briider [The Twelve Brothers], Bruderchen
und Schwesterchen [The Little Brother and Little Sister], Die Skben
Raben [The Seven Ravens], Sneewittchen [Snow-white], Marienhivd
[The God-child of the Blessed Virgin]. In Dasent's Norse Tales
the story is called " The Twelve Wild Ducks." In some of these
stories a part only of our story is preserved. Among the Wends,
[Wanderers] a people of Gallicia, it is called Die Pathenschaft der
Heiligen Maria [synonymous with 3IarienJcind],

The Wonderful Cake; p. 19.

One good feature in the household tales of the Aryan peoples is the
attention paid to the sayings and doings of the animal world. The
characters of most of the individuals introduced are marked by grati-
tude, and their exertions in behalf of their humane friends cannot be
surpassed for earnestness and energy. In the earliest shape of the
stories, these were all divinities in disguise. The essence of the legends
escaped the story-tellers in time, but they retained the form. Many
a young person must have beeen disposed by the hearing of these tales
to treat the birds and beasts about them with due tenderness. These
remarks are not so applicable to the present piece of extravagance as
to other specimens of fireside stories.

The False Bride ; p. 21.

Such tales as we are engaged with, stood in their original form
thoroughly distinct from each other : but in the lapse of generations
a part of one would be joined to a portion of another to make a se-
parate story. Perhaps in the whole collection of Aryan folk-lore
there is not to be found thirty per cent of purely distinct plots. In
the present small collection it is hoped that there will not be found
many repetitions. The German varieties of the present tale are Die
Ganzemagd [The Goose-Girl], Bruderchen und Schwesterchen, Die
Drei Mannlein im Walde [The Three Dwarfs in the Wood], Die
Weisse und die Srhwarze Brant [The Fair and the Dark Bride]. In
Dasent's Collection it is called " Bushy Bride."

The End of the World ;p. 25.
Many light and apparently useless seeds are carried by their downy
wings to foreign fields, while the acorn drops at the foot of the oak.
Foxy Coxy is or was a familiar acquaintance with the peasantry from
Cape Clear to Ulmea at the very end of the Gulf of Bothnia, yet how
few individual peasants ever heard of the grave works of Buckle or
Malthus S

NOTES. 1 6 j

The Three Gifts ; p. 25.

The cudgelling scene in this story used to give as much pleasure to
the younger portion of fireside audiences as the marriage of Pamela
did to the Windsor folk, who heard her story from beginning to end
at a smithy during successive nights. It is met with among the
Hindoos (somewhat disguised) by the name of " The Jackal, the
Brahmin, and his Seven Daughters;" in the Norse Tales as "The Boy
that went to the North Wind ;" and in Italy as " The Woodman."
Gerald Griffin has also told the tale, and Crofton Croker has embalm-
ed it in his " Hungry Hill."

The Unlucky Messenger ; p. 30.

The following apologue in motley belongs to the family of fiction
which claims " I'll be wiser next time " as a member. It illustrates
the folly of expecting good management from an incapable person,
however judicious may be the instructions given to him. He follows
the rule laid down for him without taking circumstances into account.
The other moral inculcated is the same as that in the fable of the man,
his son, and their ass. Under a grotesque exterior many a one of the
household tales conveyed an excellent lesson of practical wisdom.

The Maid in the Country Under Ground ; p. 33.

This is one of the many household tales in which grateful animals
figure. Another good specimen is preserved in the " Legendary Fic-
tions of the Irish Celts " under the title of " Jack and his Comrades."
Shakspeare or his authority borrowed the idea of the Three Caskets
from some early variety of the story. The sentient and speaking tree
testifies to the nature-worship of the pagan times from which the
greater portion, if not all, of these fictions have come down to us.
The Continental versions are the German Fran Holle, Die Zwei Brihdcr,
Die Drei Mannlein im Walde ; "The Girl at the Well," and "The Step-
sisters" in the Norse collection. The ancient Irish believed that the
abode of the blessed, Tir na n-oge, wTas within the earth ; the Greeks
and Bomans had their subterranean elysium, and we find the idea pre-
served in this old fireside tale and in the Three Crowns in the " Le-
gendary Fictions of the Irish Celts."

Jack the Cunning Thief ; p. 38.

The title of this tale is the worst feature in it. Unlike the greater
portion of modern rogue literature, it is not calculated to urge young
folk to a breach of the decalogue. The curious will find other versions
of Jack in " The Master Thief" of the Norse collection, and in the
" Shifty Lad " of Campbell's " West Highland Tales." It is also to
be found in one of Gerald Griffin's stories.

The Greek Princess and the Young Gardener ; p. 47.

The name Greece is spelled in our vernacular Greig, hence the pecu-
liarity of the name in this story. The editor has heard the country so
named on more than two or three occasions near the Wexford moun-

1 66 NOTES.

tains. He hopes to escape blame for allowing his fireside chronicler
to send his characters dry-shod from Spain to Greece via Morocco.
He has heard few foreign countries mentioned at Bantry or Duffrey
firesides, except France, Spain, Greece, Denmark. Norway, and
Moroco. The phrase " Through them with the boy till he got intothe
stable," p. 51, is idiomatic for " The boy went through them," &c.
In foreign versions of the story, the elder brothers kill the youngest as
they are returning, and dispute about the princess when they arrive.
But the fox revives his favourite, and the traitors are punished. In
Russian collections the story goes by the title, " The Fire Bird and
the Grey Wolf," and a variety of it is called the Czarewitsch Ljubini's
Adventures. It also appears as Mac Iain Direach [Son of John the
Upright] in the West Highland Tales.

The Giant and his Royal Servants ; p. 56.

The pursuit in this tale forms part of the story of "The Three
Crowns " in " The Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts." The
whole tale is the same in substance as the late Wm. Carleton's "Little
house under the Hill," in which the rich comic power of the writer was
displayed. The present editor found it easier to adopt the seriou
tone of the story as orally received, than to rival the vis comica o
the author of "The Poor Scholar." It is told in Russia under the name
of King Kojata, in Poland as Madey, in Hungary as " The Glass Hat-
chet," and in Germany as Der Trommler [The Drummer]. In the
Norse collection it is called "The Master Maid," and in the " West
Highland Tales " The Battle of the Birds ;" the versions more or less
differing from each other.

The Lazy Beauty and her Aunts; p. 63.

In Grimm's collection this story is called Die Drei Spinnerin, and

a portion of it is found in Rumpelstiltschen. The Italian tales "The
Seven Slices of Bacon," and " Goatsface," bear a strong resemblance
to it. In the Norse collection it is entitled " The Three Aunts." Mrs.
Ellen Fitzsimon furnished Duffy's Fireside Magazine with a charming
variety of it under the title of " The White Hen."

GlLLA NA GRUAGA DONNA j p. 67.

A version of this tale is told in Germany under the title of Die
drei Soldaten [The Three Soldiers].

Shan an Omadhan ; p. 71.

J. F. Campbell has preserved a version of this story in his most
valuable collection, "The West Highland Tales" under the title, Mae
an Rusf/aich [Son of the Skinner]. It would appear that the Bodach
was guilty of a solecism in the construction of his order. Staidhear do
chosaibh na gcaorach would be " a path for the sheep's feet ; " Stai-
dhear le cosaibh na gcaorach, a path with the sheep's feet. For neglect-
ing the trifling difference between the two expressions, Shan made

NOTES. 167

him suffer. The sheep's eye in the Bodach's meaning was a look ex-
pressive of mutual intelligence, or of wishing for something. Shan
understood it in the sense which served his own purpose.

The Princess in the Cat-skins ; p. 81.
This tale will be at once recognized as a variety of Cinderella in
the French repertory. The German versions are called Allerleirauk,
[Rough altogether] and Ashenputtel [Covered with Ashes]. In the
Norse tales the heroine is " Kattie Wooden-cloak." Campbell calls
her fairy friend A'Chaora Biorach Ghlas [The Sharp Grey Sheep]. The
Italians have a variety under the title of "The She-Bear."

The Well at the World's End ; p. 87.

This story is a relative of The White Cat in the printed fairy tales,
and of " The Water of Life" among the Germans. " The Sick Queen''
in the West Highland Tales has a slight connexion with it.

The Poor Girl that became a Queen ; p. 91.

This is rather a lesson of conduct under a grotesque disguise than
a mere household tale. The German version is called Die Kluye
Bauerntochier [The Clever Peasant Girl].

The Grateful Beasts ; p. 95.

Stories of this class are abundant in the folk lore of every people.
They give evidence of animal worship having been contemporary with
their invention, and in their preservation they display the genial
kindly feeling towards all created beings, prevailing among groups of
country people met to relax after their daily labours. The Mongols
tell a story similar to this and under the same title. The corresponding
stories told in "Russia are the Czareicitsch [Czar's son] Ljubim, "The
Fire Bird and the Grey Wolf;" in Hungary, "The Grateful Animals"
and Pen go ; in Italy, Gagliuso, [Puss in boots] and The Jewel in the
Cock's Head ; in Germany, Die Zivei Briider [The Two Brothers] ; in
India, " The Woodman's Daughter ;" among the Wends, (N. E.
Prussia), Der Krieg des Wolfe* und cles Fachses, [The War between
the Wolf and the Fox].

The Gilla Rua ; p. 98.

In Italian collections a near relation of this story is entitled Signor
Scarpacifico. In the Norse Tales it figures as " Big Peter and Little
Peter." In The West Highland Tales it is represented by " The
Three Widows" and " The Poor and Rich Brother." In " Holland
Tide," by Gerald Griffin, it is called " Owny and Owny na Peak."
S. Lover contributed a variety of it to an early number of the "Dublin
University Magazine," with the title "Big Fairly and Little Fairly."
Cahlr na Goppal [Charley of the horses] was a noted horse-stealer, who
used the lower story in the ruined castle of Leix near Portarlington,
for stables. See the chap-book entitled, "The Irish Rogues and
Rapparees."

1 68 NOTES.

The Fellow in the Goatskin ; p. 103.
The descents made by Hercules, and Theseus, and our hero into hell,
are probably modifications of a myth that was current in Central Asia
before the Pelasgi made their first settlement in Northern Greece.
The correct style of the name is Giolla na Chroiceann Gobkair. The
fireside chronicler overlooked the fact of the King of Dublin being a
Dane himself, and as such, in no dread of an attack by his countrymen.
In a Flemish tale, Fourteen Man, by whose side the Irish youth is a
dwarf, also pays a visit to the infernal regions, and astonishes the na-
tives not a little. In the Polish story of Madey, a fine young boy
goes down to recover a parchment signed by his father. On his return
he converts a dreadful miscreant by describing the peculiar punishment
preparing for him. " Yellow Bellies," a favourite nickname for Wex-
fordians, was given to them (by their own account) by Queen Eliza-
beth, when with yellow silk scarfs round their bodies, they won a
hurling match in her presence. The free-spoken woman, rapping out
a mouthful of an oath, protested " These Yellow Bellies are the finest
fellows I've ever seen."

The Haughty Princess; p. 114.

Modifications of this story are to be found in all popular collections.
Shakespeare had an old English version in his mind when he began
" The Taming of a Shrew." Probably Tobin looked for no higher
authority than Shakespeare for the outline of his " Honeymoon." The
conclusion of our tale resembles that of Gruelda, which Chaucer bor-
rowed from Boccaccio, who himself had borrowed it from the Norman
Trouveres. These gay minstrels did not invent the plot any more
than their imitators. They found it current in the oral literature of
their day. In the collection of the Brothers Grimm, the domestic
reformer is called Konig Drosselbart [King Thrushbeard or Throat-
beard] .

Doctor Cure-all; p. 116.

In the German collection this worthy is called Dohtor Allwissend
[Doctor Know-every-thing] . Moliere founded his comedy of Le
M(fdecin malgre lui [The Doctor in spite of himself] on an early ver-
sion of the present tale long current in France, and seized on by the
Trouveres before him. In the Gallic form, a rustic, being compelled
to prescribe for a princess, effects her cure, and rather to his own sur-
prise. All the sick of the city crowd next day to the palace to be
healed, and the king orders the unwilling practitioner to go into the
large hall where all are assembled, and put them out of pain. He
enters, makes a speech to the infirm crowd, and promises an imme-
diate cure, but then the greatest sufferer must allow himself to be
roasted for the general good. His ashes taken on water are to be the
specific. However no one would acknowledge himself to be ill on
such terms. They make their escape by twos and threes, every one
declaring to the king as he passes out that he has been miraculously

NOTES. 169

restored to ^health, thanks to the royal physician. Of course the
learned man quickly ascends to the top of his profession.

The Wise Men of Gotham; p. 119.

A locality in one of the eastern shires of England would seem to
claim these sages among its notabilities, but every country, almost
every district, has its Gotham, to whose inhabitants everything which
combines silliness with gravity is attributed by their neighbours.
Some years since a book made up of such exploits from Hindoo
sources, and entitled " The Surprising Adventures of the Venerable
Gooroo Simple and his Five Disciples," was published by Messrs.
Triibner. They appear to have been selected from the Hitopadesa
by Father Beschi, and translated into the Tamul language in the
early part of last century for the use of pupils. Father Beschi was
one of the most learned, benevolent, and successful of Indian mission-
aries. The Tamul is spoken in the southern part of the Peninsula.
Two of Grimm's stories, Der Gute Handel [The Profitable Bargain]
and IIa7is im Gluck [Jack in Luck], resemble our tale in some re-
spects. The early story-tellers, in order to interest their audiences for
the time, and flatter their self-esteem, would tell similar stories, laying
the scene in a neighbouring locality, whose inhabitants laboured
under the dislike or contempt of the listeners.

The Good Boy and the one that Envied Him; p. 122.

This and the next two tales, and " The Music of Heaven," are
among the apologues selected from the current household fictions of
ancient times, and read for the inhabitants of religious houses when
at their meals, or introduced by preachers into their sermons. The
Trouveres converted " The choice of Three Evils" into a rather unedi-
fying story, by their mode of telling it. " The Good Boy, &c.," is
the subject of Schiller's Poem of The Road to the Foundry, so beauti-
fully illustrated by Retsch. Johannes a Voragine, Bishop of Genoa,
in the latter half of the thirteenth century, embodied most of the
moral legends to which he had access in his Legenda Aurea [Golden
Legends]. No clergyman of our days would venture on reciting to
his congregation many of those tales once considered rather edifying,
or as the name Legenda imports, " Things useful to be read." " The
Music of Heaven ' has always appeared to us one of the finest, if not
the very finest, of all the saintly legends. " The Birth and Baptism
of St. Mogue" and " The Greedy Mason" are fair specimens of the
use which our old storytellers made of incidents in the lives of the Irish
saints. In our old pagan lore a wonderful cow cuts an imposing
figure. The daily restoration of the slain and eaten animal was a
household incident among the Norse gods of Asgard, the boar afford-
ing a supper to Odin and the other divinities, and enjoying buxom
life the next day.

HOW DONN FlKINNE GOT HIS HOESE SHOD ; p. 131.

This pagan story was too curious to be neglected by the tamperers

I/O NOTES.

with the lives of saints. So they feigned St. Eloi, the skilful worker
in metals, to be much puffed up with pride of skill, and an angel thus
curing him of his spiritual malady. Coming mounted to his forge,
he fashioned a shoe, pulled a leg out of his steed, shod the hoof, put
the limb back in its place, made the beast go through his paces as
well as if no operation had been performed on him, and asked the
saint could he do such a thing. Of course he could (in his own con-
ceit), but when he tried the experiment on a steed of his own, and
saw the life-blood gushing out, and the poor beast at the point of
death, he humbly besought pardon for his presumption, and obtained
it. The angel assumed his ethereal form, administered spiritual com-
fort, and then vanished.

Cliona of Munster; p. 133.

For the legend of this powerful Fairy Queen, see the Dublin Uni-
versity Magazine for November, 1870, the outlines of the story having
been taken from a MS. obligingly lent to the compiler by W. M.
Hennessy, Esq., M.R.I. A. The legend of the Red Druid is intended
for publication in the forthcoming u Bardic Stories of Ireland." Pro-
bably the threatening rhapsody dashed in Cliona's face by the hand-
some young witch was as little intelligible to her as it will prove to
our readers. " The Birds speaking to the border of the Foxes" must
have inflicted no small degree of fright on her. The wildly attired
maiden had surely heard in some way the equivalent of Omne ignotum
pro terribile. Cliona and our other fairy queens detained Irish youths
in their Sighe palaces, as Calypso and Circe did the comely hero of
the Odyssey, ages before their day.

The Fairy-Stricken Servant ; p. 139.

There were probably stories current among the country folk of
Italy and Greece in which the Lares and Penates, or their representa-
tives, punished or rewarded domestics according as they showed them-
selves negligent and slovenly, or the reverse. These household gods
and the corresponding divinities of other countries have survived to
our own times as fairies, brownies, Shakespearian lubber-fiends, &c.
The fragments of food and the drinks spared to the fairies continue
the libations made by the ancient pagans to the gods. If reapers
and mowers neglect to spare scraps from their open-air repasts, the
fairies leave a curse on the spot, which afterwards produces the fenr
gorthach (hungry grass). Whoever inadvertently crosses the doomed
strip of verdure, falls down and perishes in a short time from mere
weakness, unless he is discovered and given some food and drink.
Wm. Carleton treated this superstition in detail in one of his stories.

The Fairy Rath of Clonnagowan ; p. 141.

This and the next legend have been communicated to us by an
unimaginative lady, a native of the locality. The Love Philtre, p. 145,
is from the MSS. of my lamented friend, John Windele of Cork.

NOTES. I 7 T

The Enchanted Cat of Bantry ; p. 149.

In the volume of the Transactions of the " Historical and Archaeo-
logical Association of Ireland" for 1868, and at pages 187 et seq. this
legend will be found at full length. Its appearance in print dates
from the middle of the sixteenth century. William Baldwyn the
writer, asserted that as he was spending a night in company with
Master Ferrers, master of the revels to King Henry viii., Master
Willot his astronomer, and Master Streamer his divine, this latter
related the story of the Cat as having been told him while on a visit
in the county of Vvashford at the house of a churle of Fitzheries
(Fitzharris). We are indebted for the legend to Robert Malcomson,
Esq., in whose possession the unique old volume rests. The present
wrriter has ventured to give an English explanation of the language
of the cat, who, as is only reasonable to suppose, miawed in the native
tongue, and was from the beginning of the tragedy bent on annoying
the strangers. Non-Irish scholars will please pronounce Is in the
explanation as if spelled Iss.

The Glounthaun is a hollow through which the road to New Ross
runs. It is considered an eirie spot by the Bantry folk.

The Mitchelstown Caves ; p. J 56.

The sheep in this tale are distant relatives to the sea cattle on
Dursey island, on the Munster coast. These suspecting evil designs
on the part of their keeper, repaired to their native element, leaving
stone effigies of themselves on the shore.

The Death of the Red Earl; p. 160.

Ath Caislol would be better explained by "The Ford of (or near)
the Castle," but for the name being applied to the building, not to
the river-pass.

Any of our readers who wish for a closer acquaintance with fo-
reign folk lore, may enjoy it, provided they understand German, by
consulting the following authorities : —

For German Stories reference may be made to the collection of
the Brothers Grimm, of which an edition was published at Berlin in
1822, and another at Gottingen in 1843. There are many separate
collections of German household tales, for mention of which we can-
not afford space.

For Hindoo Stories, Dr. Herman Brockhaus's selections from the
Amadeva Bhatta of Cashmere, published at Leipzig, 1843, and " Old
Deccan Days ; Hindoo Fairy Legends current in Southern India,"
collected by Miss M. Frere, Murray, 1868 ; also, " Vikram and the
Vampire," edited by the great traveller R. Burton, 1869. In this
collection the stories are told by a Vampire to King Vickraniaditya,
who is carrying him from a burial ground to a magician, in order to
convert him to a certain use. If the King happens to answer any

1/3 NOTES.

question which the Vampire insidiously proposes to him at the end
of each tale, the cunning fellow escapes from his wrapping cloth, and
goes back to his place, and the King is obliged to return and impri-
son him again, and another tale follows. Professor Theodor Benfey
published at Leipzig in 1859 a translation into German of the Hin-
doo Tales found in the Hitopadesa [Good Advice], and the Pancha-
tantra [Five Books], under the title, Panchatantra, Funf Bucher
Indischen Fdbeln, Mdrchen und Erzahlungen [Five Books of Indian
Fables, Tales, and Stories]. There is a French paraphase of these
stories by M. Dubois ; Paris, 1826.

For Hungarian Stories see Saal's collection, Vienna, 1820 ;
Magyar Sagas and Stories by Johann Grafen Maylath ; Stuttgart
und Tubingen, 1837.

For Italian Stories, — The Cento Novelle Antiche, a mixture of
Saracen, Hispano-Moorish, and Eastern tales, and of those told by
the French Trouveres ; Straparola's Le Tredici Piacevolissime Notte
[The Thirteen Very Pleasant Nights], 74 in number, and first pub-
lished at Venice in 1550 ; and the Pentamerone of Count J. B. Basile,
of Torone, a Neapolitan poet, who flourished in the beginning of the
seventeenth century. Basile's tales are related by a Moorish slave.
In Del Dialetto Napoletano, of Galiane, 1789, and in D'Affliito Memo-
He degli Scrittorl del Regno di Napoli of Eustach, i794> will be found
information concerning the last named writer and his works.

For Mongol Tales we give reference to a German version of
Benjamin Bergmann's '* Nomad "Wanderings among the Kalmucs in
1802-1803," printed at Riga in 1804 ; as well as Lehmann's Magazin
der Litteratur des Auslandes [Magazine of Foreign Literature], 1838.
The frame-work is the same as that of Burton's " Vickram and the
Vampire." A young Khan, for expiation of his sins, has to fetch the
vampire Ssidl Kiir from the burial ground, and every time he gives a
wrong answer to the question proposed to him at the end of each tale,
the vampire escapes, and the Khan's labour begins anew.

Of Polish Household Tales, K. W. Moncicki made a collection,
and F. W. Lewestan published a German Version at Berlin in 1839.

The Russian Fireside Tales were translated into German, and
published at Leipzig with a preface by Jacobus Grimm in 1831.
Johannes R. Vogel published another German version of them in
Vienna, in 1841. The best collection in the original Russ is the
Nowosselje. Moscow abounds in chap-books of the land.

The best Scandinavian Legends of the Fireside are Arndt's Selec-
tion, Berlin, 1842, and a collection in a poetical form made by
Afzelius, entitled Svenska Folk Visor, [Swedish Folk Stories], and
issued at Stockholm in 18 14, 18 16. A German edition of this wRh
a preface by Ludwig Tieck was published in 1842 at Leipzig. The
latest collection by Asbjornsen and Moe has been given to the Eng-
lish reading public by G. W. Dasent, under the title of " Norse Tales."

The Wendish Tales were published under the title Vollcslieder der
Vitnden [Folk-lore of the Wends], by Von Leopold Haupt and Joh.
Ernst Schmaler, at Grim ma, 1843.

[ '73 ]

GLOSSAEY.

The correctly spelled Irish words are printed in Italics. In these the hard sounds
are to be given to c and g, and the final vowels to be heard.

Aoife : Eve, a woman's name.

Aoibhil : all lovely.

Banacht Lath : beanachd teat, a blessing with you.

Bawjst (before explained) has its root in bo, cow, being the enclosure

in which cattle were gathered in the old disturbed times.
Bodach (same root), originally meaning a grazier, has come to desig-
nate a churl, a purse-proud, ignorant person.
Bodher (buidre deafness, bodhraim I deafen): annoyance. "Moi-

dher " is another form of the word.
Boorawn : a domestic utensil for carrying meal or corn — a tambourine

enlarged, has the same root owing to its drum-like sound when

struck.
Brishe (prise, a breach ; fr. briser, to break) : smash, debris.
Bresna : brosna, a bundle of sticks or brushwood intended for fuel.
Cashel (cios tribute, all rock) : rock of tribute. Cashel was the

ancient capital of Munster.
Cannat : probably from Ceannaidhe, a dealer, peddler, such folk being

considered the reverse of simple or upright. The " canny sugach "

(jolly packman) was a welcome, though not much trusted, visitor at

farm-houses.
Cliona : beautiful.
Cloncurry (cluan a pasture, currach a race-course or marsh) : the

marshy meadow, or meadow in the marsh.
Cooramuch {coirm or cuirm banquet, cuirmeach festive) : comfortably

social.
Coshering (cosltair feast, bed) : living at a neighbour's expense.
Cuggering (cumhgairin, I convoke ; comligair rejoicing, convoking,

convenience) : holding confidential conversation with some one.
Dargle (dair oak, geal beautiful, dorcha dark). The reader may

assume the meaning to be "fair oaks," or " fair-shade, " the latter

equivalent to the " Beltenebros," of Don Quixote's library.
Gaum (gam gazing about) : a gaping, dawdling fellow.
GOMULA (gamaille) : a gowk, a simpleton.
Good People : didne matha, the fairies, said by way of propitiation,

Waverley students will recollect " the kind gallows of Crieff."
Googeen ( ge goose, ceann head, gugaille a talkative fellow) : a silly

person, a goose-cap.
GoRSOOiST : garsun, the French garcon, a boy.
Haggard (stackyard). Besides the Irish namas before quoted, there

is also adyort {adag a bundle of sheaves, cuirth a yard).

1 74 GLOSSARY.

Ktppeen : ce'qrin, a dibble or planting stick.

Lewd : ladar, awkward, clownish, ashamed.

Moddheeeen Rua (madha or madkraclli a dog, ritadh red) : a fox.

Omadhawn, before explained, boasts the cognate word "moodan" in
Hindustani.

Oxter, Oscal (Uchd the bosom, staidheir (pr. stair), a step, a path) :
the armpit. The pass from the bosom.

Pishrogues (puhreog or pitheogt witchcraft) : magic spells.

Praskeen : praiscin, an apron,

RaMPIKE {reimshe staff) : a young tree stripped of its boughs and bark.

Sarra (sar contempt, disdain) : misfortune. Country folk sometimes
combine the idea with that of an evil spirit.

Sraumoges : sram, matter oozing from the eye-lids.

Sturk (sturrach rugged, stuirt pride) : an obstinate, disobliging person.

Sthronshuch (sthru, prodigality ; Strogh a rent) : a lazy good-for-
nothing fellow.

Shuchrawn (sugradh mirth, diversion) : state of dissipation and hope-
lessness (in modern slang •• being on the batter ").

Thuckeen {thoigheach loving, thocha love, thogliadh, chosen) : a pet
expression for a young girl.

%*% To Irish or corrupt words in the book not here explained, the
writer begs to refer to the glossaries of the three books mentioned in
the succeeding pages. A well-digested, most masterly, and useful
work on the names of Irish localities is Mr. Joyce's " Origin and
History of Irish Names of Places." Colonel James A. Robertson
has done good duty by Scotland in the same line.

LEGENDABY FICTIONS OF THE IEISH CELTS.

By PATEICK KENNEDY.

Post 8vo., Cloth, Illustrations, 7s. 6d.

MACMILLAN & CO.

>■♦ + «< ■

The Athenwum.

" As an author combining archaeological learning with a sly grave humour, we
commend Mr. Kennedy to the public, reminding the latter that to the scholar
and historian, the real value of the book lies in its archaeology. In the latter
department the author has rendered great services. . . . His book Will keep
his name young as an admirable Irish story teller."

The Spectator.

•'This is a very admirable selection of Irish Fairy Stories and Legends, fresh
and full of the peculiar vivacity, and humour, and ideal beauty, of the true Celtic
legend. . . . Mr. Kennedy has produced a beautiful and popular book."

The Dublin University Magazine.

"No writer ever came to his work armed with a shrewder and more philoso-
phic discrimination, with imagination and humour so in harmony with his
Subject, or with a more racy and admirable gift of narration. . . . He ap-
proaches the most grotesque and extravagant of Iris Celtic stories with the
veneration due to immense antiquity, and rude but undoubted national inspira-
tion; l)i him we admire not only an admirable story teller, but a man of quiet
and pleasant humour, and a sound and comprehensive scholar."

The Dublin Evening Mail.

" It would be unfair to Mr. Kennedy, to treat his work as merely an entertain-
ing collection of home tales. That it is, and much more. It is a vivid picture
of the ancient Celts in their interesting superstitions, customs, kindly sympathies,
and simple piety ; and much is due to the reverent hand of the painter, who lias
lent to it no false colour, but presented the stories in their truthful simplicity.
This will make his work a classic — one to stand beside the best books of folk-
lore-. We consider that he has laid Irishmen of every creed and class under an
obligation, by a work which will offend none, and please and instruct all. The
purest taste has presided over the selection andnarration of the stories."

The Limerick Chronicle.

" Since the publication of Crofton Croker's ' Legends ' and Keightley's ' Fairy
Mythology,' no such attractive work of folk-lore and household fiction has ap-
peared as the present. When we compare it with the above works, however, we
must decidedly give it the preference for the comprehensive variety and local
interest of its multifarious fairy tales, ghost stories, witchcraft, sorcery, fetches,
and diablerie of every kind. It will bring back to many of us the most pleasing
reminiscences of our childhood. At the same time the author's repertory has
been so well filled from all our archaeological stores, that the more learned and
fastidious reader will find something to attract his attention, and add to his stock
of knowledge. The book is in short quite a gem in its way."

THE BANKS OE THE BOEO.

BY THE SAME WRITER.

Foolscap Octavo j 2s. Qd. free by post.

DUBLIN: M'GLASHAN & GILL, AND P. KENNEDY.

LONDON : BURNS, OATES, AND CO.

EDINBURGH: JOHN MENZIES AND CO.

> ♦ ♦ ♦ C

The Athenaeum.

" Under the cover of the tale, the author pourtrays scenes and incidents in
Irish life in a simple unpretending manner. ... On the thread of the story-
are hung illustrations of Irish life, legends, morals, and poetry, which are the
real staple of the book."

The Spectator.

" For the somewhat numerous class who like to look at nations through a mi-
croscope, and those who arc seeking to understand better many curious phase3
of Irish thought and feeling, this volume will have considerable interest."

The Dublin Evening Mail.

" Mr. Kennedy's picturesque sketches are as green, sunny, and vivid as a bit of
landscape from a true artist's pencil. The scenes are full of character and inno-
cent humour. The feature most marked in his sketches is the life which ani-
mates every page. We ask no truer painter of the Irish character, in its simpler
and tenderer aspects, than the author."

The Nation.

"Here is no exaggeration, no straining after effect, no outrageous caricatures
of the people. Yet a great amount of mirth and oddity is to be found in the
scenes, and the warmth and intensity of Irish feelings is well displayed. We are
taken to the wake, the dancing school, the hurling match, and the harvest-home,
where the wit and humour of the country-folk run on right merrily. The jokes
and the songs are often exceedingly comic."

The Irish Times.

" As a delineator of the people and their manners, the writer is perhaps unri-
valled. This present work is characterized by a quaint, sly humour, pungency,
and raciness. It is as remarkable for originality, for truthfulness, and simple
philosophy, as for its wealth of information concerning curious customs, local
traditions, and social gatherings, which the writer attaches to an interesting nar-
rative of quiet country life."

The Freeman! s Journal.

" This little work rescues from oblivion the household stories, manners, and
amusements of half a century since. The style is pure and as simple as the
habits the writer describes. Not the least interesting in the collection are the
songs and ballads of his youthful days."

The Irishman.

" In the Banks of the Boko we become a guest at the fireside of the comfort-
able farmer, and a confidant of the gossip that flows in fluent streams round his
bright heai-th. Episodes— racy, rollicking, and genial, and ballads of the real na-
tional type, are strung together on a string of fiction, as country children string
the wild flowers of the field."

The Kilkenny Moderator.

" We have here a tale racy of the Irish soil. All the scenes are clearly drawn
from nature, and the characters are the living counterparts of personages photo-
graphed in the memory of the writer. They are here produced with life-like
effect."

EVENINGS IN THE DUFFKEY;

BY THE SAME WRITER.
Foolscap octavo ; 2s. 6d. free by post.

DUBLIN: M'GLASHAN & GILL, AND P. KENNEDY.

LONDON: BURNS, OATES, & CO.

EDINBURGH: JOHN MENZIES & CO.

>♦<■»<—

The Athenceum.
Attentive readers of these Evenings will be delighted with the faithful pic-
tures of rural life, and with the light which is thrown upon the customs <>f
country homes in Ireland. . . . They will see that a graceful wit pervades
the every-day conversation of the country-folk ; that they have deep religious
feeling, and even possess some knowledge of history. . . . The manners which
Mr. Kennedy depicts have not become obsolete. Long may they prevail ! for the.\
are those of a simple, virtuous people. . . . Mr. Kennedy's present work
gives the reader a vivid picture of living Irishmen and women."

The Month.

"The course of the narrative introduces us into many an Irish home, and gives
us the details of their every day life. Love, simplicity, and a taste for the
vellous are all blended together just as they are in the lives of the peasai
with a free interchange of wit and practical jokes. But in nothing is the v.
more happy than in the thoroughly Catholic tone which he has unconsciously
imparted to all the acts and feelings of his characters. In pourtraying the su-
perstitions of country life, he shows how much of sprightly romance and poetrj
there is about them."

The Irish Times.
"Mr. Kennedy has depicted the social and domestic existence of his dramatis
persona? with such realistic minuteness, that those who desire to know what Ire-
land, at least the county of Wexford, was some quarter of a century before bha
great famine, will find much to their purpose in this work. The legends an
tremely interesting and well-told. The Usurer's Ghost and the Young Prophet are
amongst the most powerful we have read. In a different vein the tragi-comedy
of the Three Geese and the Earl of Stairs' Son are equally excellent."

The Scotsman.
" None of Mr. Kennedy's stories are of the rollicking order, but all are full of
good humour, fun, or pathos. Several ballads also occur in the volume, and some
of them are capital. The volume is one which probably conveys as good an
idea as can be got of the life of the industrious farmers and agricultural popula-
tion of Ireland."

The Nation,
" The author's tales and pictures recal and preserve the life and love of a pea-
santry at once loveable and loving, kindly, quaint, and contented. The indul-
gent landlord surrounded by his tenantry, patronising the sports of the pea-
santry, and reaping the reward of his kindliness and generosity in the undivided
affection of the people, is the centre of a charming picture."

The Dublin Evening Mail.
''The remarkable simplicity of the tales, their quaintness and purity, will sus-
tain the character Mr. Kennedy has won for himself in his former works. With-
out exaggeration or colouring he represents the simple life of his countrymen
when quietly allowed to pursue their ordinary occupations."

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